Huntress
by ashehole
Summary: A girl with the gift of death. A boy with an immortal life. Sian Healey has always been left out of her family, due to her lack of special gifts. But with the death of her parents and the move to L.A., she is thrust into things she never believed in.
1. Prologue: The Myth of Persephone

**AN: I decided I wanted to write a story mentioning the Daughters, but not fully focused on them. I wanted something a bit darker, a bit….EVILER! Mwahaha. D**

**Summary: A girl with the gift of death. A boy with immortal life. Sian grew up believing her family, gifted with powers their royal ancestor prayed for to keep a dying king's final request, didn't want her around because she seemed to have no gift. Bran was kidnapped from his home in the 1920s, and made into a _servus_ for a powerful _Lecta_. With the death of her father and stepmother, Sian leaves to live with her stepbrother in Los Angeles. But this place doesn't feel right to her at all. She ends up in a group of girls suspicious of her arrival and timing, and all Dakota can say to her is that a "demon" lives within her. And until she meets the runaway slave, she has always felt something missing. Now the two are drawn to each other as they journey into the underworld of Sian's ancestral past to discover that what seems to be isn't, and what is there is a whole lot sweeter.**

_Below the feet of a goddess waited a god, a powerful and sometimes frightening one that most misunderstood as evil. By his brother, her father, he was promised the maiden, whose name was known as Persephone, as his wife, and now all he had to do was wait to take her to his kingdom in the Underworld. When he saw the right time, the death god, Hades, sprang up from the earth in his chariot, sweeping the poor confused and startled girl into the gold chariot, and then back down into the earth where not even her mother, Demeter, could hear her strangled cries of protest._

_Even though Hades had taken Persephone against her will, he loved her greatly and treated her like no other man could have. Still, his great Queen was sad and missed her mother and the sun, even though she tried to be happy with her new husband. She wanted to go home, but never had the opportunity until the messenger Hermes came to the Underworld to bring Persephone home. He told Hades that the gods demanded that Persephone be released to return the earth above. The god was forced to agree and let his lovely wife go. _

_Hades had a plan though, to keep his wife with him. Before she left, he fed her the fruit of life, telling her it would be the most delicious fruit that she would ever eat. She ate of it, but not all. In partaking of the fruit, she had condemned herself into staying with her husband one-third of the year, leaving her mother to despair and becoming the Queen of the Underworld once more._


	2. One: The Demon Slumbers Within

If there was anything that Sian--pronounced like Shawn, thank you!-- really didn't want to do, it was move to Los Angeles--come on, The Angels!--, be reinstated in public schools after five years of home schooling, and most definitely NOT live with her older brother, Dakota Reynolds. Not that Dakota was a mutated, uninteresting dweeb…most days. She was just comfortable living back home. It was also that he was twenty-one, independent, and actually her very sexy stepbrother. Not that she cared. Not in the least bit. She definitely wasn't aware that she had had a crush on him for years, and that they would both be alone, together, by themselves… not that anything would happen! Dakota wasn't her type, and he didn't seem to have interest in her. He was just nice to look at.

Her lips turned up in a smirk as she gazed out the window. She was nervous. Even in her mind she could ramble on and on. No one knew about that, except Dakota. Despite him being sexy--although, if you could really call a six foot tall, bright green eyed, shaggy blonde-so-pale-that-it-was-white-haired guy who was lean looking but strong sexy…--Dakota had been her best friend since she was seven when her father and his mother met. Dakota knew everything about her. He had special gifts like that. What did one expect when he came from a long line of _magicians_?

There really wasn't much to Sian Healey. She was seventeen, recently turned. Two years before, her father had died from a disease no one in both families could seem to control. Her mother had left her two days after she was born; she didn't know who she really was, not that she actually cared. A month ago, her stepmother—her only mother—died as well, seemingly of the same disease. Dakota had been the only relative willing to take her in. It didn't make much since, but she had accepted that fact with chagrin.

So, off she went with her stepbrother, who just had to live in L.A., California. Granted, she loved Dakota very much and loved to look at him even more, and even knew that the family would love it if they got together, but she had a horrible feeling about coming to live here. She only had another year, and she could leave, so she decided that it would be more worth it to stick it out than to throw a fit.

"Sian, you're upset," Dakota told her, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

A weak smile greeted him in return. She hated for him to tell her her own emotions. Like she didn't already know how she was feeling!

She looked back at him through the mirror. His green eyes, like that of a piece of green apple candy, met hers, like that of smoke. The iris would change and become different colors, twisting with her emotions. It would be like watching heavy smoke drift into a weightless mist. Her father would tell her they were he mother's eyes, forever changing colors into something special. He would always say, "You're your mother's daughter. If you didn't have such a beautiful personality, you could be her." That was the only time anyone would ever mention her mother.

"I'm fine," Sian said, lying through her teeth. With one hand, she pushed back her strawberry blonde hair.

"You don't have to lie to me, babe. I know you better than that."

"Of course. You know my emotions better, stupid empath," she gruffed in return.

Dakota was an empath, just one of many in his mother's family. They had all sorts in there. Her father's family had magic, too. See, even though Sian and Dakota were stepsiblings, they were also very distant cousins. It was a family legend. Her father used to tell it to her as a bedtime story, including Dakota into it after the marriage.

Long ago, there lived a prince. He once had two other brothers, one older and one younger. His older brother died in a war against an evil force his father was crusading against. The younger one had been kidnapped during this crusade, seemingly by the evil force. The same night, the king's greatest friend disappeared. It saddened the king to lose so many close to him. He only had his middle son, the prince, more of his mother's son than anything, to give him comfort. The prince grew into a king with a loving queen and two beautiful children, a boy and a girl. The now king loved his family, but he remembered the promise he made his father, the promise to avenge his older brother's death and his younger brother's kidnapping. He wasn't sure how it would work to go against this great evil. After long nights of careful planning, the king decided to pray for the power to fight. In the middle of the night, he fell to his knees in the great courtyard, calling out for the power. He prayed long and loudly, hoping his wish would be heard. After many long hours, he was finally heard. 'Oh great and gentle son, you wish for a gift to fight the evil which your family has a vendetta against. I shall give you two. However, they will not be yours, but your children's. Nothing comes without a price.' The price was the death of the king, sacrificed so his father's promise could be kept. His children, Orlan and Meygan, later developed powers, given instructions by the god who granted the powers on what they were to do. The most the royal siblings did was write their tales of their meager adventures against the evil, with no solution to the problem. And so they had children, and their children had children, and moved on to different parts of the land, growing and expanding, but still remembering their ancestor's sacrifice.

Remembering the myth soothed her nerves. She never believed it, the myth. Yes, her father and his family had talents. So did her stepmother and her family, including Dakota. She hadn't hit the genetic mother lode, though. She wondered if that was the reason why her father's family didn't want her. That, and the fact about her lost mother. But the myth was still beautiful, to her anyway.

"You're such an emotional girl," Dakota teased.

She leaned forward, her chest pressed against the driver's seat. "Am not." She snuck a kiss in on his neck, smacking her lips loudly in a playful manner.

"Don't worry, Sian. You're going to love it here. It's usually sunny, and the area is beautiful, and I know you'll make friends. Besides, not being near the family is good for you. You can be normal now, without them hemming and hawing over you not have a gift of your own," he added in, as if it were a bonus to a great reward.

"You're right. We can forget about the legend out here, can't we? Just be a normal family?" Sian's curiosity piqued.

"Of course. Nothing crazy. Not for us."

"She bit her lip, finally seeing the plus side to all of it. A normal life with Dakota. Maybe, in time, and with a little help, he would even see that they would be great together, They didn't that great and passionate love her old girlfriends would squabble over. They already had love for each other. They would just need each other.

"Could it really work?" Sian asked incredulously.

"L.A. is going to be a new start, Sian. Are you afraid to let go of all else?"

"You can't let go of your gifts!" She fired back.

Along with empathy, Dakota could manipulate other's emotions and had a strong hold on his vitakinesis—the ability to heal rapidly and grow back lost limbs.

His smile was knowing and gentle. "You are afraid, Sian healey."

"No, I never believed. How could I be afraid of letting go?"

Finally, Dakota pulled into a short driveway. The house before them was small and broken down, a real fixer-uper. The wooden porch stairs sagged, not dangerously, but enough to keep someone cautious when they walked on them. The house had recently been repainted a calming ocean blue, which seemed to be an improvement because she saw that the garage was a hideous green. Shingles were falling off the roof and there was barely any grass in the yard. What grass was there was at least a foot high.

"Um…The inside is a little better. Trust me," he laughed, catching the look on her face.

The two of them clambered out of the car, grabbing all of the bags she brought with her. The stairs creaked beneath her added weight as she walked on them, held down with two large duffle bags and a book bag. Dakota threw a grin back at her as he opened the door to reveal a totally pimped out interior. The inside was even better looking than their old place back in Arizona. While a queer look was brought about by the exterior of the place, Sian could feel herself drooling over the walls and furniture of the one-story place she would be sharing with her brother.

"Wow, Dak, you weren't kidding! I love this place, babe! It's utterly…I love it," she repeated slowly, taking it all in.

He dropped her bags onto the floor. She followed suit. He turned around to face her, the smile gone from his lips, but not from his candy apple green eyes. They shone with their own light as he stepped closer to her. Sian opened her mouth to remark about something in the house, but lost her words on the tip of her tongue as his large and gentle hands slid up on her cheeks.

_Could this be real?_, she thought, feelings of shock and confusion rushing through her.

His lips caressed hers with a burning love threatening to overtake her. It was everything she had been wishing for. She could feel him tasting her emotions and tasting her mouth all at once, but deep down, she could feel how wrong his beautiful mouth was against hers. It hadn't been the first time this had happened. There had been plenty of guys she kissed in the past, and even though she had loved how they kissed her, their mouths never felt right. Just like Dakota's now.

Before she could pull back, Dakota threw himself away from her. The skin along his jaw line was ash gray when it should have been a healthy peach color. He was gasping for air. Sian stepped back, confused. Their kiss hadn't even been that intense!

"Dakota?" She kneeled next to him, scared. Slowly, the color came back to his face, but his smile was entirely gone. "Dak, what happened?"

"I _felt_ it," he whispered.

"Felt what?"

He looked straight into her eyes. She could see they fear in his now. "I felt what was deep inside, the sleeping demon. You do have a gift, sweet. A powerful one. Something not inherited by the prince."

Sian shuddered at his words. "Sleeping demon?"

"Sian…Please, don't touch me. Not for a while. I don't want to feel it again," he begged.

She moved back, hurt and startled. He called her power a demon. Did she really have a gift? It didn't seem possible! Yet… So many things seemed to add up to her. Like her kissing thing, how no guy felt right. Was her demon picky about guys?

"I…I'm so sorry, Dak. I didn't know. I didn't know!"

He finally gave her a shaky smile. "No. But I think the family did. I think they've always known."

"But…"

Was she something to be feared? She knew L.A. was dangerous. Already, in less than twenty minutes, she learned of things she'd rather never know. She'd hurt her only companion with a talent she didn't think existed.

"Why wouldn't they have said something? I mean…" Her words trailed off, never uttered. "Oh, Dakota!"

He watched as her eyes became impossibly dark, a fury of fear brewing within her heart. He could feel how uncertain she was now. What didn't she understand? What _could_ she understand? He couldn't figure it out himself. He had never felt such raw power. But it wasn't just that. As he was kissing her and his empathy powers scoped her out, he felt the power itself reject his touch. It knew that he was wrong.

How could a power have emotions?

**Well, this is the first chapter of my new story, Huntress. So, what did you think of Sian and Dakota? Leave me reviews. You know I love them!**


	3. Two: Family Ruling and A New Friend

**AN: Sorry for the wait. School is………**

Dakota's mouth twitched a little as he placed a large plate in front of Sian. She poked at her eggs, scrambling them more to mix them with the cheese. Since the day before, Dakota had barely talked to her. He didn't run for the hills, pre say, but he looked at her warily, as if he thought the demon he claimed was inside her would pop out like a creepy Jack-in-the-Box. She glowered into her food. Like that wasn't bad enough, she had finally gotten Dak, but knew he wasn't the right one.

How could that even be? She understood why not the other guys, but she _loved_ Dakota. She loved him with all her heart. Why would she feel that he was wrong? Yet, she couldn't deny what her body had felt when his lips had touched hers.

Total and utter rejection.

"Come on, Sian. You love my eggs," he whispered, sitting down at the table across from her.

She winced at his words and tone. She may not have been an empath, but she could tell that he was afraid of her. She glanced up at him. He frowned at her dark gray eyes. Mechanically, she shoveled a forkful of eggs into her mouth, forcing herself to chew.

"Won't you say anything to me?" Dakota inquired, watching her eat.

She slid a piece of bacon into her mouth, trying to think of what she would say. "You were on the phone with the family all night," she accused.

He stared down at his own plate. "I thought you were asleep."

"What did they say? Did they tell you that I was evil, Dak? Did they say to get rid of me?" She slammed her fists on the table, rattling their glasses.

He flinched, sitting back. "Be reasonable, Sian. They're our family. Of course they didn't say any of that!"

She squeezed her eyes shut, biting back a wave of bitter tears. She had major doubts that her father's family had a care for her. She wished she knew what it was all about. Long ago, Sian accepted what they told her. Now, she just couldn't be sure of any of it.

"You're lying to me, Dakota. It's okay. The family wanted me here for a reason. They all fear me for a reason. Now you do, too," Sian responded slowly, pulling her seat back from the table. "I'd rather find out on my own than have you tell me."

"Sian, I know as much as you," he protested.

She shook her head, smiling at him. "It doesn't matter. I'm going for a walk."

"What about your unpacking?"

"It won't run away."

Dakota looked defeated, but she couldn't help that. He had his own demons to work out now. She grimly smiled at her thought as she walked out the door.

Above her, the sun shined down, too bright and warm for her chilly thoughts. She shoved her hands into the red hoody she was wearing, pulling it tight over her body. She kept her head bowed as she walked. The neighborhood Dakota lived in was pretty quiet; not one person was out with her. She got to thinking about it. It was summer, and still before noon. Most people would either still be sleeping, hiding from the heat, or at some kind of job. She wondered if she should have wanted people to be out with her.

Sian wasn't aware of how far she walked, or even how long. In dry Arizona, she would walk everywhere all the time, alone or otherwise. She did realize, however, that she was beginning to overheat in her hoody. She stopped, pulling it off in one swift movement to reveal her navy blue beater. She tied the sweatshirt off at her waist, yawning, glancing around her surroundings. There was a big difference from walking the streets of her previous home and walking the streets of new L.A.: She didn't have one clue of where she was at here.

She kicked out at a few rocks where her feet were. Stupid, stupid. How could she have not looked at a few street signs in the least? Right, then. She just needed to sit down and think.

_I'm just feeling restless,_ Sian said to herself. _I need something to drink, a place where I can think this through. Or maybe I just need to go back home._

Home wasn't with Dakota. It just couldn't be until she knew what was going on. The family knew all of it. Grandma Carol would know all of it because she was the head of her father's side of the family. The old woman would have the answers she would need.

Reaching into her pocket, Sian pulled out a small wad of cash she had stuck in there when she got dressed that morning. It had been a rule of her father's to always carry a few dollars wherever you went. That "just in case" policy. Inwardly, she scolded herself. All she had grabbed was fifteen dollars. She couldn't even be sure that it was enough to secure her a ticket on the Greyhound buses. But at least then she could sit at the station and think.

"I don't know where the bus station is!" She cried out, realizing yet another mistake she made that day.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, vibrating against her thigh. She stood there on the sidewalk, like an idiot, waiting for it o stop ringing. She knew it was Dakota, wondering where she was. Well, she didn't want to talk to him until she could confront the family.

The phone began to buzz again. She gritted her teeth, pulled it out of her pocket, not bother to even check the Caller I.D.

"Dakota, leave me alone right now," Sian answered.

A silence slid through the phone until the annoyed voice of a woman reached Sian's ears. "We gave you the phone so that you could be bothered and you'd know who was calling you."

"Grandma Carol?"

"Who else would be calling you?"

"Well…"

"Quiet, girl," her grandmother silenced.

It wasn't as though Sian was afraid of her grandmother—yet it was not unlikely seeing as how the old woman could see most of your intentions and plans, even three hundred miles or so away. It was just that she had never given Sian the opportunity to see her as nothing but a scheming, meddling old bitch. She just _had_ to be obeyed.

"You are not coming back here to talk to me. You have a phone with which to call me," Grandma Carol reminded her in icy tones.

"I thought that if I had called you, you would hang up on me," Sian reasoned.

"Well, why would I do that? You're my son's only child," the woman countered.

_You know perfectly well why._ "Obviously because of what Dakota cried into the phone all night."

"I will not talk to you about any of it. If you had come back here, I would have slammed the door in your face. You belong there in Los Angeles. Why do you think Dakota lives there now? Your father met your mother there."

She got it. Furiously, she began to pace around, her hand having a death grip on the phone held against her ear. "That's been your plan this whole time! To get to find my mother?"

"You sound upset, Sian."

Sian could hear the laugh in her grandmother's voice, practically see the wide, ghoulish grin on her face. "Upset? No, no, Grandmother. Finding my mother would be the best thing. I can get far away from this fucking family!" She screamed into the phone.

For the first time, Sian began to notice the people around her, either rushing away quickly from the strange and yelling girl or staring at her with a mixture of intense amusement and shock, especially when she began to rant a string of outrageous curses at her grandmother, finally huffing her way out of the argument by pressing the end button. She glanced around at her audience with dark eyes burning, a soothing-but-causing-more-panic smile plastered painfully on her face. It was then that she decided to continue on her way. She didn't know where to, but it was definitely far away from these people.

How dare her grandmother! She totally manipulated—well, Sian had to admit the old broad was most famous for that—the situation to her everlasting advantage. For crying out loud, Dakota wasn't even her flesh and blood, and she _still_ had him under her cruel thumb. Sian didn't get it. What was it about her? Were they right to be afraid and distance themselves? Sian frowned. There was nothing to be afraid of. She was still. Loving, moody, easily irritated, and loyal Sian.

But why was it that everyone seemed to abandon her when she needed them the most?

Her body quivered. She would either burst into tears at any given moment, or she would find something else to vent on. She prayed hard for the latter. Who she prayed to, it didn't matter. It just had to grant her that one wish.

"_Chica! _Move. You're in the way."

Sian frowned at the voice intruding on her private reflection. She was trying to think. Could the voice not see that? Her frown still clinging to her mouth, she turned around to face this voice and ask it its problem—perhaps if Sian was thinking rationally, she would have noticed she was directly in the middle of the sidewalk, but Sian was definitely NOT a rational thinker.

Before her stood a tall, Hispanic girl, looking down at Sian in an irritated mood. Sian blinked at the girl, taking her in. She was tall—as mentioned, at least taller than herself—with naturally dark and smooth skin, long and thick black hair, dark eyes, and on further inspection, she saw two black tear drops at the corner of her left eye. Sian blinked at the girl whose arms were crossed along her chest, a dark look in her already dark eyes.

"I-I'm sorry," Sian finally mumbled. "I'm new here…And kinda lost."

The dark look left the girl's eyes, now replaced by something much different. Something like intense curiosity. Something that definitely made Sian squirm. "You're new?" The voice was rich, a slight Hispanic accent and rough edge to it.

"Um, yeah. I just moved in yesterday."

"The girl scrutinized more, sucking up all the details of Sian. Physically, at least. "I'm Jimena. Jimena Castillo."

Sian perked an eyebrow at Jimena. The investigation of her features was more than a little creepy. "Sian Healey."

"Shawn?" Jimena smiled at that.

"Yeah, but it's spelled S-I-A-N."

"That's definitely new."

"Blame my dad. He was off."

"Was?" Jimena caught the wording, her eyes softer now, but not yet completely.

"Two years," Sian admitted to the girl.

Jimena nodded in sympathy. "Look, I was about to meet my friends. Come with. You look like you could use a few pairs of ears."

Sian bit her lip. Jimena definitely frightened her. She could admit that much. She had a feeling that Jimena just wanted to keep her close by. As soon as she thought that, she scoffed. What was she now, a precious empathy in her psychotic family?

"That would be cool, Jimena." Sian grinned, feeling a bit happier about her chaotic situation. Maybe what Sian needed were some good, _normal_ friends.

Just then, her phone began to buzz again. Sighing, she looked at the number this time around. It was Dakota's cell phone this time, not her grandmother calling back.

"You going to answer that?"

Sian shut the phone off completely, pushing it back into her pocket once more. "Nope. It was no one important."

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**AN: Well, there's the end of chapter two. I'm sorry, once again, how late it is and hope you enjoy Sian. Because I love her. Lol. Reviews, please!**

**Next Up: Sian goes to hang out with Jimena's friends. And if Jimena scared Sian, wait until she gets thrown in with them.**


	4. Three: Foe, Or One of Us?

**AN: I've noticed I haven't put up a disclaimer.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Daughters of the Moon. I do not own the Atrox. I do not own the Followers, Chosen Ones, Nefandus. I do not own the slaves. Except Bran. I own Bran. I own Sian. I own Dakota. I own that entire, dysfunctional family. I own my own little story in Chapter One, which is Chapter Two. Have I left anything out???**

**On with Chapter Three!**

If Sian thought Jimena scared her with the staring, and the creepiness, then her three friends went beyond scary. Granted, they were cool and a definite mismatched bunch, but still freaky. Who knew one could ask so many questions? Sian certainly was in for a surprise!

The other three girls pounced on Sian like a pack of hungry kittens, meowing and batting at her—she really felt like a new ball of yarn! Jimena had introduced her carefully, in a guarded tone with a queer look to the other three girls. Sian saw it, she just didn't get it. She wondered if the events of the past day could do something like that to someone.

"Sorry I'm late," Jimena started. "I picked up someone on my way. This is Sian. Sounds like Shawn, spelled like S-I-A-N. Right, Sian?"

"Yeah." She flashed the girls' weak smiles.

"I'm Vanessa," a perky blonde said first, holding out her hand from her seat in the booth. To Sian, she seemed like the prim and proper type when looking at her immaculate face, but her clothes—a forest green baby-doll dress couple with THE greatest, tightest jeans Sian had ever laid eyes on—screamed teases. She didn't like girls like that; girls that seemed innocent, but she could smell what Vanessa was really like. Not that Sian could blame the guys because those blue eyes of her were really something.

"I'm Nessa's best friend, Catty," a hyper brunette introduced next. Immediately, Sian felt herself liking Catty. There was something there about the cute girl that screamed familiar, and yet something sinister as well was there. As with her best friend, she wore something out of a magazine: a tight black shirt, plain and simple with a dipping neckline with a white, fanned-out skirt, her legs nice and tanned for the outfit.

Finally, the dark-haired brunette--the one Sian would have definitely said out of all four of the gorgeous girls, she was the most glamorous—looked at Sian. She gave her the same creepy once over that Jimena had done not too long ago. "Serena. Sit down." She flipped back her near black hair, staring Sian down with green eyes that were a little less than welcome.

Jimena got in beside Serena. They wore near the same dress, strapless and flowing, Jimena's in black and Serena's in powder blue. Sian blinked. Why were these girls so dressed up in the afternoon? Sian never got her question asked, never answered. She just sat down, and let the kittens tear her apart.

They asked all sorts of questions. Things about her life, her family, her personal life. She answered vaguely on the first two subjects, but her personal life became an interesting topic. Despite all her wrong kissing issues, she had had plenty of boyfriends, plenty of "buddies". That was one thing in her old life that was actually common and normal.

Still, even as the topics varied and they ordered lunch, Sian couldn't shake the feeling deep in her gut. There was something different about these girls, something she didn't like at all. She watched them carefully, wondering what it was about her that they wanted to know.

Serena especially was keen on watching her every movement. Sian found it uncomfortable to eat a burger while under inspection. She'd look at Serena occasionally, but when the feeling of something along the line of feeling _worms_ crawling across her brain came around, she was always quick to look away. Every time she felt it, she would twitch, and the feeling was gone. Serena would get funny looks on her face that did not go unnoticed by the others.

"Have you ever had strange dreams?" Vanessa asked, smiling at her.

Sian shook her head. "I don't dream. It's just this weird thing about me."

Catty reached across the table, stealing one of Sian's fries. "You mentioned your dad, your step mom, and your brother. What about your real mom?"

She wasn't prepared for that question. She blinked a few times biting her lip. Never knew her. Two days after I was born, she gave me to my dad and walked out of the hospital room. I don't even know her name. Besides her dramatic exit, all I know is that I look just like her, especially our eyes." _And that my father and she apparently met in this city._ But that was something she wasn't going to share.

"Motherless. That's something a lot of people these days seem to be," Jimena sighed.

"So, how come you guys are so dressed up? Coming back from an all-night party?" Sian laughed, hoping they at least knew how to party and would invite her along.

Things slowed down—seriously, the girls seemed to be put in slow motion as they gave each other painstakingly secretive looks. No one said anything. They just waited in their overbearing silence. Sian waited in her growing confusion.

Finally, it was Jimena who spoke. "The girls like to party hard."

Sian said the only thing that actually came to mind. "Great." After all, who didn't like to party, and party hard at that?

"In fact," Serena seemed to purr, "We're going to a club tonight. Wanna come?"

She thought of Dakota, sitting at home, waiting for her to return or answer his calls. "Oh, God, I'd love to." She hesitated then. "But, um, I don't have anything to wear."

Vanessa glanced at Serena, a silent conversation passing between them. "I have some outfits in the trunk of my car. I was delivering a few of them for my mother and had some left over. You're welcome to try them out."

Sian sat there, staring, more than a bit confused. It was a weird day. These girls were just adding to the cake mix. She felt as if their kindness was forced, their questions almost too probing.

"Thanks. I think," she second-guessed herself.

"Vanessa's mom designs clothes for movies. Now worries," Catty told her, seeing her momentary hesitation and mistaking it for the clothes issue.

Sian nodded. "Cool." But the feelings, the confusion and uncertainty, hung in the air. She felt choked by them. "When dos this party start?"

"In two hours, actually. Think you can be ready by then?" Serena challenged.

An impish grin slid over Sian's face. "I can party." And her answer was all they needed.

**XXXXXX**

Sian enjoyed the image being reflected in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall. She turned all angles, loving the way her curves screamed sex under the fabric of her mint green dress. Green was an excellent color for slight red heads. She touched her teased hair, hearing the "poof" in her head as she did another glance over. A tight, mid-thigh halter dress, paired off with calf-high boots and fishnet. She loved Vanessa's mom. Man, it felt damn good to look like she did. Her eyes sparkled in the light of the room, medium gray the only indicator that anything was actually bothering her.

But it was time to party! She wasn't even going to think like that, all depressed and worried.

She turned to the door, ready to go downstairs. After the café, the girls had piled into Vanessa's car—an absolute miracle to behold, to be perfectly honest—and zipped off to Serena's house. No one was home, her father being at work and her "surfer bum" brother at the beach. The girls had opted to stay in the kitchen while Sian could rummage and use whatever she found in Serena's room.

She shrugged, hoping the physical action would shake her unease. No such luck. What good were "feelings" anyway? Look at the trouble it caused her already!

With a sigh, she opened the door slowly, making her way out into the hall and down the stairs.

"…Couldn't see anything. It was all cloudy." That was Serena's voice.

"No thoughts at all?" Jimena asked.

"None," Serena replied.

"That's strange, but not that strange, right? She seems so nice!"

"Yeah, well, even the nice one can be baddies," Catty scoffed. "She's not one of us."

"Neither was Tianna, at first," Vanessa said.

"She's too old. Past the age," Catty reminded.

"Well, we have to assume. After Jimena's latest visions…"

Sian stepped into the room, coughing and smiling slightly. "What do you guys think?"

They became eerily quiet, smiling at her. It was creepy, but she went with it. Anything to forget that conversation she had stumbled on.

**Next Up: Yay! We get to meet Bran. **

**Btw, leave me reviews, readers. I know you're looking at this, so leave a little review! I'd sure love to read how you guys are reacting to the story!**


	5. Four: The Hunted

**Disclaimer: I do not own McDonalds. Kay, thanks.**

The slave crouched low, hiding himself in the darkest alley, peering out onto the street where the _idiots_ would be following. They were trying to get the slave back to his proper master. The disgusting, rotting creatures scoured the streets. They were looking in masses for one, little slave. One slave worth nothing.

At least, that's how the slave felt. That he was nothing worth this manhunt. Still, he enjoyed _living_ and wouldn't give himself away. The life he could envision--when not under the influence of the drugs these _creatures_ kept all the slaves under—did not include serving one of the most prominent Immortals in Nefandus. But he was not important himself. No _servus _was. And he could not for the life of him see why his master would raise such an alarm. Besides, plenty of slaves ran away each "day".

He pressed himself against a wall as one, then two, followed by four Regulators trudged dangerously close. They sniffed around. Fear sparked in his heart. He would not die like this, like a dog! He seethed with anger. They had taken everything from him! His home, his family, his dignity, a normal way of death. If he wanted freedom, he'd have to fight for it.

With a deep growl, he leapt from his place. It wasn't graceful, but it was effective. He attached himself to the bastard creature, digging his fingers in its mottled face. He could feel his nails digging into flesh. The screams were high pitched in his ear. Another Regulator ripped him off, snarling its foul breath in his face. The one he injured thrashed about on the ground. He kicked away, falling in a heap on the cold, hard ground.

Adrenaline pumped through him. He needed to get to the boundary. It was so near, so in reach of him. With force, he bounced up to his feet, ready to sprint.

"Bran!"

_Not that voice_. _Not that voice_, he pleaded.

"Bran Rockwell," the voice commanded. His master's voice.

He turned to face her, the powerful _lecta_. She stood at the end of the street, watching him with chill. Not that that was new. She watched everyone with an icy gaze. Too bad he couldn't see the color of her eyes. That would really be something, to see how angry she would be for her own property to get away from her.

"Where do you think you're going, Bran Rockwell?" The _lecta_ inquired. Even though she was made of ice, her voice was liquid fire. It brought many to their knees. But Bran wouldn't be swayed. He was too close.

"I'm not staying here. I'm not staying a slave."

"Oh, Bran, is it such a terrible life?" She took a step forward, her long, wine-colored skirt billowing forward. Behind her stood her own loyal band of Followers.

"You have no idea," he whispered bitterly. He took a step back. One of the bolder Followers, the one Bran had always thought sadistic, tensed, as if ready to leap through the shadows at any moment.

"You want to leave me, Bran?"

That voice. How could a voice so wonderful belong to such a demon? If he succumbed, he would die horribly. His master would hand him over to the Regulators. He shuddered at the thought.

His master took another step towards him. He could see her more clearly now. Her long hair, curled around her waist, dark blonde with a hint of red. Her angelic face was hidden between two, thick tendrils. He could see her mouth, stained red, underneath that silken hair. Still, here eyes were blocked from at this distance. He couldn't see their color, so he didn't know her mood.

This wasn't going to work. She wouldn't get him. He'd rather be caught running if he had to get caught at all. He turned, going off into the darkness. His legs pumped harder and faster than he thought was possible. He lowered his head, but not before checking out the moonless sky. The star blinked. He took a head-first dive, praying they didn't catch him.

They didn't even move. The _lecta_ watched her slave escape, holding the others back. She pushed a tendril behind her ear, a smile on her beautiful lips. One of her Followers, an eager man they called Jackal, stepped up to her.

"You let him get away. Hard to believe a puny _servus_ could get away from _you_," Jackal sneered, his teeth—all of them filed into razor sharp points—bared.

The _lecta's_ turned deepest black as she turned to face him. He flinched back, fear in his eyes. She laughed then, her eyes swinging back to near white, which was far more intimidating. It meant that she was extremely pleased.

"I want him to go. As a test. The master hopes her passes. For your sake, Jackal, you better not question me again."

**XXXXX**

Bran breathed in slowly, laughing at his luck. They didn't follow him through. He was free! Free! He scrubbed his face, laughing loudly now. How wonderful freedom tasted.

He finally stood, smiling at himself. He was back on Earth. Even the filth here was beautiful. Yet, even as he admired the world around him, he noticed things. Things like the fast, metal monster coming straight for him. He tumbled from the street, averting sure mutilation. The contraption honked loudly as it sped by. Only then did Bran see that the monster was actually some sort of car. A more furbished version of the ones from home. He held a hand over his heart. It was beating so fast, he thought he would surely pass out.

He had never seen anything like it. He had heard slaves talk before, that time in Nefandus is different. It would have to be, to collect the various slaves there. So he knew it had to be many years after he was kidnapped. Still, seeing the advancement just panged deeply the terrible loss he was suddenly feeling.

Looking up, he saw an older gentleman walking past. Gathering his courage, Bran stood up, calling out to the man.

'"Sir, can you tell me what year it is?"

The man stopped, looking at Bran. The man looked him up and down, one eyebrow perking up, his nose wrinkling at the sight. Bran could only imagine what he looked like at the moment.

"Son, it is the year 2006," the man replied. He narrowed his eyes. "I would lay off the drugs if I were you." The man reached inside his pocket, pulling out a leather wallet. He took some bill from the fold. "Here's fourty. Go home, son. There's nothing here on the streets for you."

Bran took the money, blinking slowly. Drugs? The man thought he was on drugs? He just kept quiet. Although he was thinking about the accusation, his mind was reeling. 2006. _The year 2006! He had been gone for 82 years!_

"You hear me, son?"

"I'm not sure I even family, sir, let alone a home," Bran replied gravely.

The man clasped his shoulder. "Family is always there. You just have to look and not let even those you're not sure of escape your mind."

Bran nodded. "Maybe."

"Trust me. Now, go on. Get cleaned up." The man smiled and looked away.

Bran looked at the money, wondering where he should spend it at. "Sir!"

The man stopped, turned again to look back at him. "Yes?"

"Where are we?"

"Los Angeles, California."

_California…_ Wow.

**XXXXX**

Two days later, Bran spent the last of his money. He had been directed towards a thrift shop, picking up a pair of jeans, boxers, socks, a black tee, and a large gray hoody. He had only spent ten dollars there. For shoes—and he definitely was not proud of this—he knocked down some drunk and took his. He was again directed to a place, the Salvation Army this time, where he got a room. Food was a new joy to him. He had discovered the amazing joy of the McDonald's Dollar Menu.

Now here was here, at this club. There was something he noticed about the wonderful year of 2006: The girls here so loved to dress so scantly. Not like the roaring 20s. The music was loud, thumping into his head the lyrics of a crazy song-- _And now you're dead inside; Still you wonder why; When you're on the edge and falling off…_

He stood in a dark corner, watching everyone. And, yeah, the show was real good. He was a man, and enjoying the girls dance was thrilling. He settled into his corner. He had no intention of saying anything, though. He didn't belong here, so he wouldn't interrupt these lives with his mess.

"Like what you see?"

The hair on Bran's neck prickled and fear coursed through his body. There was just no mistaking that voice. Jackal had caught up to him.

"What, _servus_? You thought we would just simply forget about you and your daring escape?"

"I had hopes," Bran muttered, his voice wavering.

Jackal caught that, the crack in the slave's voice. He grinned, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops. He breathed in the fear. "Too bad. Evelyn might be ready to let you, but I won't allow that bitch to gain favor."

"Screw you!"

Bran took off, weaving through the dancers on the floor. He heard Jackal behind him, cursing. He just kept going until someone grabbed his arm, pulling him to the side. He looked into all too familiar eyes, but the person possessing them was the not the same.

"You look like you're running from demons," she mentioned, looking over his shoulder.

"I am."

She smiled. "Me, too."

**Oh, wow! Hm.. Lotsa questions here, right??? Well, here's your chance to be lucky winners, all you fabulous readers, you. If you can tell me the name, artist, and album of the lyrics written above, you can ask me one question about anything in any of my stories. It can be about anything and I will answer truthfully. Good luck!!**

**Next Up: It looks as if Sian and Bran have finally met. But how will this dangerous encounter go, and what feelings will be left when it's over? Plus, another wacky member of her family is introduced, and more about the Sian's mother is revealed.**


	6. Five: Nothing, Yet Everything

**AN: Now that The Scroll's Prophecy is complete, I can begin to focus more. Granted, of course, I have a thousand other stories, but still…**

When Sian saw the guy pushing through the dancing crown, she could see the desperation in his eyes. Also, it helped that he was so cute. So, it took her no time at all to come to a decision to reach out and pull him to her. His eyes widened in fear, but then he let out a breath of relief. She looked over his shoulder then, seeing what it was that made him flee through _this_ mess.

"You look like you're running from demons."

"I am," he replied shakily.

She looked back at him, smiling. She felt connected to that answer. "Me, too."

He smiled back, awkwardly. The fear in his eyes was still there, but not because of her. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him further from the path he had been on. He trembled beneath her hands, causing her to bring him closer as she held him in comfort. Something in her soothed as she felt him calm. He brought his hands to her hips, holding on to her.

She studied him more closely in the moving lights of the club now that he was mere inches from her. She loved his eyes, how the brown was dark and warm, like melted chocolate. Contrary to those eyes, his face was hard, telling her of hard times, his nose strong, though his lips were too soft for that face. Underneath his mouth, a long scar ran from chin to neck, and it shone under the bright lights a faint pink. His hair, shaggy and kind of everywhere, was a gleaming chestnut brown, falling into his face with flurry as they moved to the music. He was a bit awkward; she was fluid. Yet, his body was nice beneath her skin, and she could appreciate the firm, taught muscles she was feeling as her fingers tended to roam across his body.

Sian looked over the guy's shoulder again and spotted a shady guy flanked by two others, one male and the other obviously female. They were looking around, trying to spot someone in the throbbing crowd. She was sure they were after her frightened dance partner. She glanced over at her new friends, seeing the kittens' hackles raised. They were watching these creeps, too.

The guy followed her line of sight, shivered, and pulled her closer to a wall. "We need to get out of here."

She noticed that he had said "we", but didn't correct him. "Why? Who are they?"

He let go of her, touching the pink scar along his face. "Please, they're not the kind of people to mess with. They're not the kind of _monsters_ to be _caught_ by."

"They would see us if we left the crowd," Sian pointed out, reaching out for him again. He moved back, shaking his head.

"I need to go!"

Something in Sian grew so cold. He was going to _leave her_. She felt like crying, like her heart would break if he was gone. The music began to pulse louder as the song changed, shaking her body to its vibrations. Or maybe it was the fear of him going that shook her so.

"No, please! I can protect you!" She wasn't sure why she felt it, but she knew it was true. This time, when she reached for him, he came back.

He looked back, satisfied that his "demons" were out of sight. "I'm Bran," he whispered in her ear.

"Sian."

Jimena sidled up to them. Sian smiled, but inside, she was a bit disappointed that Jimena chose just that moment to intrude.

"The girls and I, we're getting tired. Want us to give you a lift home?" Jimena eyed Bran, a look of approval in her dark eyes.

Home. Sian winced, remembering Dakota. Had he been punished enough now? She really didn't have any other place to go. But what she really wanted was to stay with Bran. She turned to ask if he would mind taking her home, but he was gone. She hadn't even felt him leave her arms, her embrace. Suddenly she felt alone, so utterly _dead_.

"Yeah, sure. That'd be great."

Sian followed Jimena out, catching up with Catty and Vanessa. The cool night air brushed against her warm cheeks, caressing her with its simplicity. The girls started to get into the car when Sian realized there was room still—and if you knew the car, that's a shock in itself.

"Where's Serena?" Sian asked, noticing the blank spot with keen eyes.

Vanessa blinked her baby blues at her, looking towards the side of the building of Planet Bang. There, Sian could just barely make out the form of Serena entwined in the arms of a blonde man. The man seemed to blink at her with the most startling blue eyes. She flinched at the sight, her heart racing as adrenaline pumped through her. He gave her a weird, appraising look before turning his attention back to Serena.

"Her…boyfriend," Jimena said meticulously, a lot of hate and care put in behind the word she spat at the guy.

Sian climbed into the car, not even trying to hide her confusion. "You don't like him?"

"He's the enemy," the girl muttered dryly.

Sian blinked slowly, raising an eyebrow at the other two girls, but she left her burning question unasked. Instead, she turned her head back towards the club, wondering is Bran was still in there.

Vanessa glanced at her through the rear-view mirror. "Where do you live, Sian?"

Sian laughed. _Uh-oh._

**XXXXX**

Finally, about an hour later, Sian stepped out of Vanessa's car. "Thanks. For the day. And the horribly long car ride. I'm so sorry I didn't even know where I lived."

"It's okay. Oh, and keep the outfit. We have plenty more," Vanessa offered, a friendly, but still overstretched smile on her face.

"Hang out with us tomorrow, Sian," Catty invited, looking genuine.

Jimena nodded. "I can pick you up in the afternoon, if you want. Now that I know where you live."

"Sounds great," Sian replied, agreeing with the proposal.

She watched them as they pulled out, walking backwards to the rickety porch stairs, her hand lifted in a good-bye wave. The door opened slowly behind her. She turned, facing Dakota. His face was closed off, but she could read his emotions so clearly. He was hurt, very hurt. She sighed, taking the feeling in stride.

"You should have called," he scolded in a gentle voice. His words were shaky as he spoke them. He had been really worried about her.

"I needed to think," she simply stated as she walked up the steps.

Dakota held onto her wrist as she tried to pass him, his candy-apple green eyes wary but firm. "Sian Healey. What if someone had kidnapped you?"

"Then I would have been kidnapped. But I wasn't."

"That isn't funny."

"Oh, shut up! What? Now that you can't screw the hell out of me, you're going to play 'Daddy'?" She clenched her teeth, pushing herself up against him, her stepbrother, her love, and the source of her current anger.

Sian pinned him to the wall. "Huh, Daddy Dakota? Isn't that what you want? Don't you want to screw me?" She teased.

Dakota scoffed, easily pushing her away from him. "Quit it, Sian. You're acting like a child."

"You're right," she sighed, backing off. "I am."

He touched her cheek softly, his eyes soft now, searching her darkened ones. "I love you, Sian. You just need to get over yourself."

She pressed her lips together in a tight line, her anger flaring up. She watched as he flinched, feeling it. _Damn empaths._ "I met someone tonight."

Dakota straightened, as if he had been slapped. She didn't like seeing him like that, but he needed to know. Sian planned on searching for Bran, or she would die alone.

"He felt right," was her last sentence to Dakota, knowing he'd understand. Her own "demon". She really couldn't run too far from it, like Bran could, but trying never hurt anything.

She stepped past him this time, heading into the back of the house where her room was located. Behind her, Dakota's phone rang immediately. Of course, he picked it up, which was why he was a lackey of the family heritage, and she was absolutely nothing.

"She just got in," he said into the receiver.

Sian sighed. He was just their pawn, a stupid pawn. That whole stupid family of theirs was just using him, and he really didn't mind. But she… She refused to be in the dark any longer.

Behind the closed bedroom door, she pulled out her phone, turned it on, and speed dialed her home in Arizona.

"Sian! We've been so worried about you!" Her Aunt Penelope's shrill voice rang in her ears, making her wince and hold the phone away from her ear. Yet, she could still hear her lovely aunt. "I remember, once, when we were kids, your father had run away from home, too. I was never like that. Always the good little girl, never getting into trouble. You are so like your father, you know. Anyway, he only ran away for an hour! Can you be—"

"Aunt Penelope," Sian said, raising her voice to cut her father's sister off before she could even get into the _beginning_ of her story.

"Yes?" She asked, amazed at being cut off.

"Put Grandma on the phone.

In the background, Sian could hear a struggle before the steely voice of Grandma Carol came through. "Welcome back, Sian."

"Tell me. Please," Sian begged. She cringed inside, hating the plea she was speaking.

"About what?" Her grandmother snapped.

"My mother!" _You bitch._

"No. That's for you to figure out." Her grandmother's voice sounded softer now, a voice of…sympathy?

"Please. Please, Grandma. For my father's sake. For his love of me, at least tell me her name, what she was like." Sian felt on the verge of tears. There had to be something.

"Why your sudden interest?"

"Why send me here if not to be interested?"

"She was beautiful, that mother of yours. Yet, there was something dark about her, It just wasn't right. But other than that, she was lovely, as a person, too. Somewhat kind. She could easily stun any person. It was easy to see why your father loved her.

"And then she had you, Sian. She cried and cried and cried, wouldn't even hold you. Threw the engagement ring at your father, told him she would never marry. After that, she was gone. Just left you and your father alone in that hospital."

This time, Sian really did cry. The tears were hot and stung her cheeks. Her mother hadn't even held her. After carrying her for nine months, she didn't even want her. She felt so alone, so abandoned. She sobbed into the phone, her grandmother waiting on the other side for her to quit.

"Why do you want me to find her?" Sian cried, so confused by this turn of events.

"It's in the plans. You have to find her. To feed your gift, you have to find your mother. That's how it has to be."

"I don't understand!"

"_You_ are the hope of our royal ancestor, Sian," her grandmother told her, her voice low and harsh, as if she were once again a little girl. "The power he wanted and the power granted by the foreign god. Save us all, child."

That ended the conversation. Her grandmother hung up, leaving her cold. _She_ was the gift the god gave to them from the story? That _stupid_ bedtime story her father used to her and Dakota at nights? She hugged her legs close to her, letting the phone drop to the floor as she rested her head on her knees. She wasn't a gift. Her own mother hadn't even wanted her. Her family didn't want her. She was a demon, a curse.

**Next Up: Is Sian really the "gift" her ancestor prayed for? She can't believe it, not when she was told that her so-called power is a demon. So, now the search is on for her mother. But how can you possibly find a woman you know nothing about and no one will tell you anything! Well, maybe old memories and even Bran can help our poor, cursed heroine.**


	7. Six: The Lies We Weave

**AN: I've been writing this story like crazy lately and I'm near completing it. It's funny, you have a whole story set up, and in the middle of writing it, a totally crazy idea pops up for the perfect ending. So. As always, I hope you enjoy. Also, the italics later on in the chapter are Sian's memory.**

**P.S. – For those of you who read my series, Pearl Drops, you will be happy to know that I am on the last four chapters of the third book, Chosen One, which is Blaze's story. (I write everything out on paper so I can carry it with me. .)**

The park, MacArthur Park they had said, was nice to be at on such a warm, sunny day. Sian sat on a bench, staring out at nature, enjoying the fresh air. She needed it, this air, this relative _sanity_. Her whole life was an utter mess. Her family feared her. Her so-called friends were infinitely suspicious of her, even though she knew they liked her on some level. She felt like she was going to explode with her insanity.

She only wished her insanity could be simply cured by popping pills and talking to some big-headed freak that obviously had more problems than her.

**_As if._**

It had been a few days since that night at the club. A few days longer than she wished for. All her thoughts became caught up with Bran, despite the search for her other. How complete and right she had felt with him…She didn't feel safe. No, you couldn't feel _safe_ with someone you _rescued_ from danger. That didn't matter to her. She had a feeling deep down that she could always protect Bran.

There wasn't a point, though, to be obsessing over that one guy. It was one night, and she probably would never see him again. One night didn't say "love". Especially when the most they even did was _dance_.

Sian sighed, scrubbing her face briskly, as if to rid herself of these thoughts. "No more, Sian. No more."

She couldn't convince herself, though. Right now, she just needed to focus on something else, like finding her mother. Ha! How was she to find a woman she knew nothing about? No name, just her own face for reliance.

She leaned back on the park bench, closing her eyes to the world, thinking back.

_"Daddy, Daddy!"_

_Her father looked up from his work, his face erupting in a large grin, all of his teeth showing. "Well, look at my little girl." He picked her up, giving her a tight squeeze._

_Sian looked up into his eyes, her little face scrunched up. "Daddy, how come my eyes are different? Grandma called them demon eyes!"_

_"Did she now?" Her father hugged her tight again, giving her a kiss on the top of her red-tinted curls. "Demon eyes? I like that! My own little demon."_

_"But…Daddy! Demons are bad! I don't _want_ to be called a demon."_

_Little Sian pouted her mouth, her gray eyes beginning to darken now at the conversation. Her father smiled at that. Those eyes, not so daunting as her mother's, but still beautiful and familiar in their own right. He pet her hair back, sitting back down in his desk chair. She curled into his chest, breathing in the scent of his cologne. She loved these moments with him, when it was just them two. When she was far away from her grandmother and aunts and uncles and cousins…They all watched her with funny looks as if she _were_ a demon!_

_"Okay, Sian, okay. I'm sorry. I didn't know that it hurt you like that," he apologized._

_"It's okay, Daddy. I just don't want them to call me that. They don't like me."_

_He sighed. She was too smart for a six-year-old. Too soon she would grow up and learn her secrets. "Look, love, you'll just have to ignore them and their talk. Can you do that, Sian?"_

_She looked into her father's face, a fierce look on her own. "How can I get them to like me, Daddy?"_

_"They do like you, Sian. It's your mother they don't like," her father admitted, a soft sigh escaping through his lips._

_Sian's eyes brightened considerably. She had never heard of her mother, but was always curious. "What about her, Daddy?"_

_He could see how excited she was to finally have something of her mother. What would it be like in a few more years, when she would become more curious about her mother?_

_"Your mother was special, Sian. I immediately fell in love with her. You look just like her, baby. Just like her._

_"She was in a bad crowd, though. Your mother was young, impressionable, and these people…They really were demons._

_"It's true, Sian, that your mother left you and me, but I understood. She wasn't ready to be a mother. It's easier that she left, and the family understands that, too. But, to the, your mother represented something dark and forbidden. Do you understand?"_

_Sian bit her lip, wanting to understand, but she just shook her head, eyes wide. "Dark?"_

_"Evelyn was someone they weren't and still are not allowing themselves to be. You have a lot of your mother in you, that dark quality. They're jealous of you, Sian. Do you know what that means?" Her father asked her._

_"Uh-huh. It means I have something they want, right?" Like the toy her Cousin Danny had and she really wanted, that shiny toy gun that spat noise and smoke when you pulled the trigger._

_"That's right. You have _**freedom**_. Freedom from our cursed existence to destroy evil in the name of a long dead king," her father proclaimed, his voice rising slightly as he tried to explain something significant to a six-year-old child._

_"Freedom…" She repeated, not quite getting it._

_He squeezed her, obviously not getting it. "Freedom, Sian Healey. Never forget that."_

_"Okay, Daddy!" Sian beamed. Anything to please her father._

_Grandmother Carol stuck her head in the doorway. "Paul, I need your help. Can you come here real quick?"_

_"Alright, Mother." Paul picked Sian up, placing her in the chair by herself. "I'll be right back, baby doll."_

_"Daddy!" She called out before he left._

_"Yes?" He turned to look at his small daughter, his one joy._

_"You can call me a demon," Sian permitted, nodding her angelic head with authority after thinking over the nickname._

_"Okay, little demon. I'll be right back."_

Sian allowed her head to roll back, the memory of the conversation with her father crashing into her like a foreign custom. She remembered nothing of that until now. She did remember that her family didn't like her, and that her father's nickname for was "demon" until she was twelve, and she decided that she was too old for pet names such as that.

_Evelyn_. The name hit her with force. That was a beautiful name. Evelyn. How the hell would she find her though? What was so hard about an obvious road map being dropped in her lap, starring off her position and plotting a course to her mother?

"Evelyn." She put her fingers to her face. Was this also her mother's face? She traces her nose, her lips, her eyes.

"Women these days. Isn't this public indecency?" Bran asked her, a strained smile on his mouth.

"Bran!" She shouted, leaping from the bench into his arms. He stood there, letting Sian hold onto him.

"I'm sorry about the night at the club," Bran apologized, pushing her away quickly.

"How did you find me? Why…Why did you leave?" She shoved her hand into his shoulder, pushing him, glaring. "I can protect you! Why don't you understand that?"

"Why are you reacting like we've met more than once! Sian! I'm just some guy!" Bran yelled at her, obvious frustration etching its way onto his face.

"You're not." She couldn't understand the inner turmoil going through her, but she could understand his. "Those demons…You didn't want them to see me…"

"A few minutes, one dance, and my freedom…" He muttered.

"Who are you?" Sian demanded.

Bran sat down, cradling his head. "You look like her."

"Like who?"

"My master. Your face. Your hair. Most frighteningly, your eyes." Bran looked up at her, fear in his eyes. "Sian, I can't stop thinking about you. You're driving me crazy."

"Bran…" Sian cried, cupping his face. "Will you please stick to one coherent thought?"

He yawned, cuddling into her hand. She looked at him closely, seeing the dark circles under his eyes, the pasty complexion of his skin.

"Bran, how long have you been running?"

"You don't get it. Jackal wants me. He wants me desperately. It's what he does. It took everything to shake him long enough to find you!"

"Why risk finding me, then?" Sian asked, shivering from the name "Jackal".

"Who are you to Evelyn?" Bran inquired, coming right out and firing his question at her.

"I don't know a Evelyn," she lied, keeping her voice calm and even. Oh, God, though, was her heart pounding as things wound tighter around her mind. Her hands shook as she laced her fingers together, clenching them tightly in her lap.

_Oh God, oh God, oh God, what is going on? How do I explain this, him and I?_ But she had clearly lied now and couldn't go back and scream, 'I have a mother whose name I think is Evelyn and supposedly looks exactly like me!' No way in hell could she do that now.

Bran gripped her face, searching into her eyes. She could feel her cheeks grow hot, and the _servus_ watched with growing fear as the storm that was her eyes grew fierce and dark. He let her go, moving away from her.

"I need to know who the hell you are, Sian," Bran demanded, his hands clenching into fists. This was a dangerous matter; it involved his freedom and immortal life.

"There's nothing to tell!" Why couldn't she quit the lies? Were they to protect him? …Or was it the fear, deep down in her gut, gnawing away at her miserable insides… "And what about you, Bran?"

"What about me?"

"What are you hiding?" She stood up to him, looking into his face. Yes, that was it. She had to lie. To protect him. Whoever—_whatever—_Bran was, she knew he was hers now, to keep, to have, to watch over. From what, though, she wasn't sure of yet. She'd just have to hunt down all the answers.

**Up Next: Bran discovers what "demon" Sian is hiding inside of her. But is it sleeping anymore, or just beginning to wake up from recent events? And with a run-in with Jackal, Sian is going to need all the power she has to fend off this monstrous hunter of the shadows.**


	8. Seven: The Bite of A Jackal

**AN: Yo. I updated my profile. Check it out. You can get a sneak summary of Chosen One. -Is promoting like crazy -**

Bran tossed his head back, turning a semi-quarter from the seemingly psychotic girl in front of him. "You don't know what you're doing, asking me something like that."

"No, I guess I don't." Sian's temper flared as she pivoted on her heel, stomping away. But even as she left, a feeling in her flared and made her want to rush back to him and be by his side.

_Stupid emotions_, she spit venomously in her mind as her heavy footfalls echoed on the pavement.

What was Sian getting herself into? There it was again, the questioning, the self-doubt. She sighed, running her fingers through her strawberry blonde hair. She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn't even hear Bran come up behind her, fall into step, and watch in her in silence. She sent him a sidelong glance, finally acknowledging his presence. He quirked up the side of his mouth, eyebrows were raised, but the silence continued.

"Okay. I give up," Sian finally said, blinking at him.

He nodded, his face impassive. "I don't get you."

"Are you supposed to?" She wondered aloud.

"Well, yes, I think do." He reached out, taking her hand in his.

She squeezed it, putting a little more "pep" in her step. "Things don't work out that way."

"Maybe. I'm going to take you to the park entrance, then I'll leave you. I _can't_ risk them finding you."

"I wish you'd take my word that I can help you, Bran," she replied, trying hard not to fuss about it.

"I wish you wouldn't be stubborn and realize how dangerous they are," he argued in return.

"Well, who are they?"

"Followers of evil." He dropped her hand at McArthur Park's entrance loomed, and it fell heavily at her side. "I don't want to see you hurt, Sian."

"Are you going to come back and see me?" Sian asked, actually feeling a blush creep up into her cheeks as she stared into his eyes, waiting for an answer.

"I'll try."

She reached out, gripping his arm. She could feel that dark power in her, that so-called "demon", reaching out and searching him. "Promise me."

He could feel it, her power, but he didn't recoil. Not like Dakota or the others in her life. He stood there, being probed by something he could never feel and possibly never would. Sian was a harbinger of death. This power, encircling him, was death, but it didn't bother him _because he was immortal._

Bran pried her hand off his arm with the other one, lifting it to his lips. He kiss her hand, feeling the satin of her skin. _Evelyn never tasted this soft_, he thought as Sian melted before him, her eyes instantly lightening. "You know I can't promise anything."

"Yes. You can."

He smiled at her, pulling back and turning away. He wondered if Sian knew her power, how dangerous she could be if she unleashed it. Was she aware of this?

**XXXXXX**

Serena and Jimena watched their newest "friend" as she and Catty danced together to the sultry voice of their own Vanessa Cleveland.

They couldn't figure her out. She was seventeen, making her too old to be another Daughter—plus, she hadn't been endowed with one of their charms. Yet, her eyes didn't glow that special kind of feral yellow in the moonlight like the Followers they were charged with fighting—and said Followers were in a recent uproar, anyway.

"Did Stanton have any new information for us?" Jimena asked her best friend in the quietest of voices.

Serena gave sharp shake of her head, her dark curls moving swiftly. "All he said was that the Atrox was pleased about something, but even he didn't know what."

"Hm. And what about Sian?"

"I just... It's like she's been trained to detect when someone's in her mind. I get in, and she shuts down automatically," Serena spat, glaring at the girl from where she was standing.

"I like her," Jimena declared. "There's something about this _chica_."

"Something _I_ don't like. I can't read her mind, she shows up right when the Followers become agitated, the Atrox is happy. I'll tell you something else, Jimena. The other night, Stanton and Sian looked directly at each other, and he looked like he had saw a ghost," Serena exclaimed, her features hardening as she looked at Jimena, throwing her arms up with the exclamation.

Jimena chuckled. "Are you sure you're just not getting jealous of Sian?"

"No!" She huffed, folding her arms across her chest and throwing her head back. "I'm scared of this girl, Jim. You didn't see Stanton's reaction."

"What, the great Stanton was _actually_ scared?" Jimena mocked, widening her brown eyes for emphasis.

"Not scared. Shocked. And worried for us. After he saw Sian, he told me that a new Follower was loose, one who follows a powerful _lecta_. His name is Jackal, and apparently he is very sadistic."

"Sadistic? How fun."

"Jimena," Serena scolded. "Stanton is just trying to make sure we're okay."

"You mean he's protecting you, right?" Jimena corrected. "The rest of the Daughters just happen to be a part of the package."

Serena snorted, but she didn't disagree. Actually, she couldn't. "So, about Jackal…"

**XXXXX**

Sian grabbed a Coke from the bar, throwing it back in an attempt to cool herself down. The back of her hand still tingled from Bran's lips, but she tried hard to that as she took another drink of her Coke. She turned her head, surveying Planet Bang—which she now knew the club to be called—for all the people. Or, more accurately, a glimpse of Bran.

Serena kept staring at her, sending vibes down her spine. Before, her hostility was closed off, just quick glances and those _damned_ questions. Now Sian could definitely tell something had put this kitty cat on edge, and somehow, she was part of it. Sian smiled at Serena, giving her a slight wave, but something feral was leaping up inside her, clawing at her insides.

What would it feel like to hunt Serena down, to track her, and then watch as her demon took over?

Sian turned away quickly, gripping her drink tightly in her hand. That thought terrified her. Serena was her friend! Why would she want to _hurt_ her?

"You don't look so go—Eh!" Jimena touched her arm, then jumped back after being shocked.

Sian saw the confusion and mirrored it. "Static electricity. You know, because of all the bodies."

"Of course," Jimena agreed, but her eyes remained wary.

"What's up?" Sian asked, forcing her tone to become light.

"Come dance with me. There are some guys checking you out," Jimena informed her, lifting her chin in their direction.

"There are always guys watching me," Sian grinned, flipping her hair behind her shoulder. Jimena joined in on the smile, leading her back out onto the dance floor.

Despite that she felt Jimena was keeping an eye on her, Sian lost herself in the dancing. Both girls threw their hands over their heads, having fun with the music. After all, if they weren't willing to confront her on whatever it was that bothered them, then she was perfectly willing to let it slide. She was enjoying herself until a strong grip grabbed her about the waist.

She knew better than to believe it could be Bran or Dakota, and from the look on Jimena's face—a look that _no one_ would risk unless they were _suicidal_—this person was bad news. He pushed his body against hers, pressing his mouth on her ear.

"What re you doing here, Evelyn? Doing the work of a _dog_ now?" He hissed, the general _**hatred** _in his voice freezing every nerve in her body. She stiffened against him, her eyes wide and beginning to swirl with her confused emotions as they ping-ponged through her mind.

Jimena glared at her captor, muttering Spanish curses under her breath before turning on her heel and disappearing into the crowd.

"Jimena…" Sian whispered after her disappearing figure.

The guy gripped her hair, pulling her head back so that she was staring into his feral green eyes. _An animal_. "Interesting," he said, his voice dark. "You're not Evelyn, yet… You look nearly identical to her." He grinned at her, baring his razor-sharp teeth. Seeing them terrified Sian, and she let a small cry escape her lips, struggling now at the hands holding her.

His grip tightened. "You were the one that the _servus_ was with," he growled, recognition flashing in his eyes.

"Let me go," Sian cried, pushing at the hand in her hair whose grip was increasingly getting tighter.

"He has been eluding me, Little Eve. Give me what I want," he threatened, his teeth scraping against her bared neck; she felt blood trickle down her throat where he broke skin. "Or I'll take it by force."

"I don't know!" She screamed, calling attention to the both of them.

He flicked his tongue over the bite marks, licking up the blood as he smiled at the curious on-lookers. His bright red hair fell over their faces, shielding them, and hiding Sian from any help. "Little girl, don't play games with Jackal."

"I'm not playing games," she choked out, trying to stifle the tears threatening to burst through. A blanket of crimson hid her vision, drowning her.

"Don't you know what I can do to you?" Jackal breathed, letting the other hand that wasn't clenched in hair roam freely.

She could feel that demon rising up in her, telling her this was wrong and getting ready to protect her. It built up in her, curling at the edges of her being. "Do you know what _I_ can do to _you_?"

Jackal chuckled. "I like a girl with spunk. Just tell me where the slave is, and I promise not to hurt you. Much."

"No," she growled, twisting in his grip without success.

"Have it your way, Little Eve," he said, his voice so casual, it startled her. He turned her around, leading her out of the club. She resisted, kicking at him, but his hands twisted around her arms so hard, the skin felt like it was rubbing off.

Sian was terrified to leave the loud noise of Planet Bang. Who was this guy, and was he going to kill her? Why did no one help her?

"This is much better. Solitude," Jackal commented, leading Sian further away.

"I'm going to hurt you for this, and for hurting Bran," she threatened.

He pushed her against a wall, shoving her back on the cool brick. She winced at the pain—and from Jackal's animalistic face—, turning her face away. His face… Seeing it in the pale moonlight… The pale skin and wild eyes… The insanely red hair… And those bright, white teeth filed into beautiful points.

"Hurt _me_, little girl? I'm the stuff of nightmares." He stared deep into her eyes, forcing his way into her mind. It was like when Serena would look at her—those damned worms crawling across her brain again!—except that it felt like her mind was being ripped open this time around. "I'll make sure it hurts, Sian Healey."

The pain in her head was intense, like the time she broke her arm. It hurt terribly, like something being torn apart that wasn't meant to. Everything went numb as the darkness began to creep upon the edges of her vision. It hurt so much, this beast trying to get into her mind, but she couldn't even scream.

But then…Who was that crying out in pain?

"What the fuck?" Jackal screamed, backing away from his victim.

Sian slid down the side of the wall, waiting for her vision to come back. She blinked and breathed in slowly, watching Jackal stumble away from her.

"Get away from her," Catty growled, stepping up behind Jackal. Jimena hadn't run away after all. Vanessa and Serena were with her, their faces fierce, medallions out and glowing.

"Back off, _deas_. She's mine," Jackal hissed, eyeing their pendants warily.

"You're mistaken, scum," Serena countered, taking a step forward.

Jackal looked at Sian, a grin on his face. "A touch one to crack, _mon petite jolie._ I'll come back for you. We have unfinished business."

And right before Sian's bleary eyes, Jackal became one with the dark shadows surrounding him. She uttered a cry, not understanding fully what had just happened.

She was living a myth, a legend, a _freakin'_ bedtime story!

Reaching up, she cupped her blood-soaked neck, staring at the kittens in wide-eyed wonder. "What is a _dea_?"

"What did you do to him?" Serena countered, ignoring the question, her face contorted in fury.

"He was trying…to kill me." Sian took a deep breath, hoping to quell the shakes in her body. "But I don't know, Serena."

"We need to get her out of her," Vanessa prompted, rushing over to Sian's side to help her up. "She needs to get home."

**AN: I was thinking about it while typing this chapter, so I'll share something with you guys. This is the soundtrack to this story. --I.E. basically what I listened to while writing-- Adema. Adema rocks. Trapt. Breaking Benjamin. And "The Nobodies" by Marilyn Manson. That song makes me think of the Followers, and thusly Sian's ultimate future as whatever I will make her. Lol. _Hint_.**

**Up Next: It's a predatory thing to stalk your prey, hunting them until the edge of their existence. Life and death is all but just one cycle of predator and prey games. Cat and mouse. You can run and run all you, but never hide. They're predators for a reason.**


	9. Eight: Predatory

**AN: I'm back. With Huntress. Lol. On with Chapter Eight!**

Sian curled up in the seat, her forehead rested against the glass of the window. Vanessa tried smiling at her, but the smile was strained in the corners of her mouth, and the effect was just lost. She pried at the injured girl's hands, pulling them from her neck. The sight wasn't exactly gruesome—if you decided that, seriously, your friend had just getting her throat torn into not being gruesome at all. There were twelve equally jagged lines where the fiend Jackal had attacked, each oozing little droplets of Sian's blood. Vanessa cringed at the sight, wondering what rock this Follower had been found under.

"How bad is it?" Catty inquired, peering over the blonde's shoulder to share at Sian's neck.

"I don't know. I'm not an expert, Catty," she snapped, pushing Sian's damp hair away from the wound. "But it definitely looks like a bite mark."

"His teeth…My God…He was like a demon, straight out of my dad's bedtime stories," Sian muttered, staring at the white lines on the street fly by.

Serena handed Vanessa some tissue, a permanent scowl on her face. "Stop the bleeding. She looks awful."

Jimena glanced at Sian through the rearview mirror, seeing her desolate expression. Was it this own girl's doing that brought the Follower Jackal to her, or could associating with the Daughters have put her in danger? Jimena could kick herself, putting someone else in harm's way again. She befriended Sian, and she was probably just an innocent bystander, for all Serena's hype.

Vanessa pressed the tissue against the teeth marks, hoping the slow trickle of blood flow would cease. "Does it hurt?"

"No. I have a major headache, though," Sian replied, remembering how he tried to pry into her mind. "What are you guys?"

An odd silence filled the car, similar to the time when they first met. The girls shifted, avoiding the gray of Sian's forever changing eyes. She rubbed her hands on the designer jeans she was wearing, smearing the blood that had collected on her palms. She didn't even notice.

"Well? I know why he, the _thing_, wanted me," Sian told them, trying not to reveal too much. He kept calling her little Eve; even Bran asked her if she knew Evelyn. It had to be her mother. They knew her. She fell right into these girls' laps. And they led her to her mother.

"We're…special," Catty finally revealed, running her hands down her legs in a nervous response.

"Are you demons, too?" Sian scanned their faces and took a deep breath. "Are you…With the Atrox?"

A screech filled Sian's ears as Jimena slammed on the brakes, pulling the car over to the side of the road. They were all thrusted forward, the seatbelts cutting into them.

"How do you know about that?" Serena screamed, turning around to stare at Sian.

"I always thought it was a stupid story! A legend my family beefed up over the years," Sian cried out, defending herself against the raging bull of a brunette.

Jimena growled, pushing Serena back into her front seat. She in turn unbuckled herself, recovering from her little driving incident, twisting around in her seat. "What story?"

"About the Atrox, the greatest evil of all time. Long story short, I have a royal ancestor who made a promise to his dying father to destroy this evil. The Atrox had destroyed my ancestor's family, waged war on his country, and just couldn't be stopped. So, the king begged for powers to fight the Atrox."

Vanessa licked her lips, nodding. "Did he…get these powers?"

"Apparently. My whole lineage has some sort of _power_. There has always been stories of some person in my family defeating someone in the Atrox's command.

"I never believed it myself. I believed we had gifts because everyone else but me in the family could do something…Now I can see that I'm wrong. Very, very wrong," Sian concluded, sighing softly with her realization.

Vanessa glanced at Serena, raising an eyebrow. Serena nodded slowly, awe spreading along her features as her green eyes flickered over Sian.

"It's okay, Sian. We won't let Jackal hurt you again," Jimena promised. "I can't believe this…"

"Is that all?" Serena asked.

Sian's hands began to tremble, but she kept them clenched in her lap. "No. That's it. Now, who are you guys?"

Catty sighed, flashing a small and tired smile. "This is a tale we've probably told too many times. We are the original enemies of the Atrox, the Daughters of the Moon. We're goddesses of Selene. We have powers, too."

"The natural predators," Jimena laughed.

"Goddesses?" Sian asked incredulously.

**XXXXX**

It's a predatory thing to stalk your prey, hunting them until the edge of their existence. Life and death is all but just one cycle of predator and prey games. Cat and mouse. You can run and run all you want, but never hide. They're predators for a reason.

Sian stared with unwavering certainty at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The wound on her neck was bandaged up now, hiding the marks of the predator, Jackal. Predator and prey. She shivered then, but strangely it was not from fear; it was anticipation that drove Sian. For the time, she was Jackal's prey, but he'd see.

Finished with the bandaging, she quietly opened the door to sneak into her bedroom. She couldn't disturb Dakota. She could never explain the intensity of the situation. He was better off not knowing. _She_ was better off not knowing. She slid into her room with the ease of a cat, closing the door softly behind her.

"What happened to you?"

Shocked, Sian stiffened and let out a small scream, falling against her door. Bran chuckled in her ear, but his voice was strained and she could see the worry in his eyes. She leaned against him when she realized who was hiding in the shadows of her room, drawing comfort from the slave.

"Oh, Bran. Why—"Sian licked her lips, reaching out to grip his arm. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

His eyes flit over to her wounded neck, his mouth parted in disdain. "He found you. That bastard found you!"

"It's not so bad," she lied, smiling up at him. In truth, it was beginning to throb and ache.

"I thought by not telling you, by shielding you, you would be okay, Sian. Forgive me?" Bran begged, moving some hair plastered to her forehead gently away.

"You came back for me," she said, amused and trying to swallow the flush creeping up her neck.

He nodded briefly, his face rigid, his lips pulled in a tight line. "You told me that you could protect me. Is there validity in that response?"

"Yes."

Bran sighed. Despair ran through him. He couldn't keep running, not with Sian; if Jackal was on their tails, he _would_ find them. He would have to… "I can take you to Evelyn."

Sian's eyes brightened immensely on the mention of Evelyn's name. "Evelyn?"

"I don't know your connection to her, but we'll find out." _Or be killed._ Why was he risking his freedom for this girl?

"Bran…Thank you." All she felt was an extreme pleasure buzzing through her as she thought about meeting this woman. This could be her mother. She could have all the answers.

Unexpectantly, Sian threw her arms around the Renegade, shoving her face in the crook where his shoulder and neck met. He smelled nice, like soap, as she breathed him in. Something in him stirred as he reached around, holding the girl close to him. She was strong; he had to give her that. But she was still such a kid, a little girl being dragged into a world of shadows. He liked feeling needed as much as he needed her.

Bran let one of his hands roam over her back, massaging her soft skin. Her top was loose and didn't cover her back except for the strings that tied it together. It still amazed him how girls would dress these days, barely wearing anything.

The two of them leaned back into her bedroom door, nothing but their bodies touching and their arms around each other.

"You smell like blood," Bran whispered in her hair, trying to restrain the predator in to him to keep from kissing her.

"Sorry." Sian laughed. Picking her head up so that they were inches apart. A teasing smile appeared on her lips as she moved in closer.

Bran's eyes widened, and he tuned his head in an attempt to avoid Sian's kiss. Her lips, instead, made contact with his smooth cheek. She tried to quell the disappointment stirring in her, but her eyes showed it all as Bran smiled awkwardly at her.

"What? Is there something wrong with me?" She questioned, stepping away from him and out of the embrace he had her in.

_Jeez, how do I fix this? I'm only protecting her_, he panicked. "I thought I heard something."

She stopped, tilting her head to the side in an attempt to listen. "It could be my stepbrother. He owns this place. Dakota's my, um, guardian." She reached past the stunned _servus_, flicking the lock on her door.

"S-stepbrother?" She lived alone with her stepbrother? He frowned slightly, staring out past the door.

"Yeah. He doesn't know about this," she informed, touching the bandage on her neck. "And he _can't_ see you."

Bran held his head in his hands, groaning. They had to get out of here! "There's something I need to tell you."

The corner of her mouth twitched as she focused her attention on him. "What is it?"

"Jackal will follow us. We'll put your stepbrother at risk."

"Jackal will go after Dakota?" Sian felt cold as she asked that. Cursed, cursed, cursed.

"He's an animal. He'd do anything."

"What do we do?" However, she was already crossing her room to her dresser. "We leave for the night until you can take me to my m—to Evelyn. Until you can take me to Evelyn." She opened her dresser, searching in one of her drawers for her hidden cache of money.

"Sian…"

"What?"

Bran sighed, coming up behind her. He touched her wrist, pulling off the watch she had on. It was a face watch, the hands clicking at their designated times. He placed it on top of the dresser with a tiny tap as she looked on.

"I'm sorry that you saw me that night in the club, Sian."

She turned around, sliding her fingers through his, reaching up to give him a light kiss on the cheek. "Take me away, Bran. I have a dark tale to tell you about your master."

"Eh?"

"You have to trust me."

"I do."

"Then let's go."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "Don't be scared, Sian."

"Why would I be scared?"

He grinned the, amused, his face bursting with a mischievous look. "Because I'm going to take you on a ride you just won't forget."

Darkness swallowed Sian, and she almost lost her breath as she clung to Bran with her life. Her body was weightless as he charged through the shadows with her. This was how Jackal escaped earlier that night. It was thrilling, exhilarating, horrifying.

She could _definitely_ get used to traveling around like this.

**Next Up: Sian and Bran go on another wild ride, and I'm sure you know the kind I'm talking about. Plus, the moment has finally arrived for Sian. The meeting of Evelyn and Sian, in the next chapter!**


	10. Nine: Binding Persephone

**AN: Yo! I have returned. Lol. From Spring Break. Yay. Also, this chapter has mild sex scene in it. Mild. Because it has to apply to ratings, which is T for Teen. Which you guys know. So no descriptive action like I would put if it were one of my M rated stories. But, a warning none the less if you don't enjoy that.**

Bran sat back on the sleazy motel bed, digesting all of the tale that had been told to him over the last two hours. Sian had been brutally honest, retelling everything about her life and what had brought her to Los Angeles. Working for Evelyn, he had heard whispered tales of the Daughters of the Moon, but he knew that she wasn't one of those goddesses. Besides, with such a dark power lying within her, she was destined for so much more.

"Do you believe Evelyn could be my mother?" Sian finally asked the boy, a hopeful smile on her face.

"Sian, if she is, I hope you know… I hope you understand what it takes to obtain the kind of power my master has," Bran replied in warning. God, that face of hers was too naïve for their predicament.

"She can't be all bad if my daddy loved her. My father was a good man," Sian bristled, defending the integrity of both her parents.

He smiled, brushing his hair out of his chocolate eyes, which looked worried and tired to Sian. "Calm down, dear."

She laughed at that, a shot nervous bark of laughter. "Why are you going to take me there, to Nefandus, after you've escaped?"

He bit his bottom lip, nodding to her question. One of his long fingers traced her cheekbones as he tried to think of an answer, but no rational one came to mind. "You said you could protect me."

She scooted closer to him, grabbing both of his hands. "Is that all? Am I just your bodyguard, an escort?"

Bran leaned forward, kissing the bloodied bandage on her neck gently. "I have a responsibility for you, too."

Goosebumps ran down her skin in a rush of excitement. "Well, you did come back, I suppose. Twice."

He could feel her power practically leap off her skin, lashing at him for more. He didn't even think she was aware of what this power could do yet. But at least she knew it was there, and it was powerful. He could hear faint despairing screams of death as he cupped Sian's face, his own personal demons pushing for him to take her. He didn't want to hurt her—God, he could kill her with a kiss!—but they needed this. A physical comfort demanded by two cursed beings.

Bran's lips were as soft as Sian expected when she had first met him. Their mouths moved together slowly, a few soft kisses to start them off as they eventually fell into rhythm with one another. As seconds turned to minutes, soft kisses turned to fervent passion. Something was exploding inside the in acceptance of each other. Nothing was too slow, too fast, right or wrong. In a crazy world, it was called perfection.

A fact did register in Bran's mind despite it being an overloaded disaster as their hands began to roam all the places their fingers itched to touch. Sian wasn't collapsing into a coma as he heard would happen if he tried kissing a girl who wasn't like him. Could it really be Evelyn's blood and influence inside the beautiful girl he never wanted to let go of?

Before he knew it, Sian had her hands under his shirt, her fingers scorching on his skin as she tore the piece of clothing off. "Bran?"

He was breathing heavy now, as was she—and he figured she was just as uncomfortable by now as he was too. "I need you, Sian."

She nodded, giving him a tender kiss on the lips. His hands searched for the string holding her top on, his fingers trailing along the skin of her back. "I need you, too."

**XXXXX**

Sian yawned slowly, burying her face in Bran's bare chest. It was morning, if the pale sunlight drifting through the blue-grey curtain were any indication. She smiled shyly to herself, a blush covering her face as she remembered the night before.

"Morning," came the sleepy voice of her handsome bed partner. She looked up into Bran's eyes and for the first time saw how genuinely happy he was.

"Good morning."

Lazily, he ran his fingers through her hair, watching the beautiful strands play along his skin. This was how life should be, minus that he was an immortal slave and she a practical death goddess. Peace couldn't last long, though. If there was even a word such as peace.

"Well, isn't this sweet."

The breath was sucked out of Bran's lungs as the sadistic voice registered immediately in his mind. Sian's eyes darkened pitch black when she looked down the bed to the animal following them.

"How did you find us?" Sian shrieked at the Follower, staring into his bright green eyes.

"Ah, my little girl. _Mon petite fille_," Jackal laughed, tossing his head back, those pearly whites of his glistening ominously.

"Jackal." Bran shook beside Sian, the tremors in his body evident as she reached for his hand.

"Dirty _servus_, spreading your filth to such a beautiful girl. I can see why you enjoy her company. You miss the touch of you master, Bran? I'm sure Evelyn will take you back, now that you're bringing this delectable treat with you," Jackal teased, pouncing on the bed with the half-naked couple.

Sian looked at her lover sharply, letting the Follower's words settle in her mind. _You miss the touch of your master, Bran?_ That couldn't possibly mean—Oh, Jesus, did he sleep with—that Bran had been involved with Evelyn.

"Are you ready to come home?" Jackal asked Bran, keeping his tone light, his eyes focused on Sian instead of the slave. He wanted Bran to answer him, not to be afraid…For now.

"We were intending to leave for Nefandus tonight," Bran answered, his voice running smoothly despite his tremors of fear.

Sian pulled the dingy sheet up and wrapped it tightly around herself, wary of Jackal's leering eyes. The wound he gave her pulsed beneath it bandage, but she refused the urge to touch it while he was here. They were wary of each other, neither knowing the kind of strength each possessed. Then the bastard winked at her, reached out for bran's throat, and turned his head so that the slave met the hunter's eyes.

Sian screamed, leaping to pummel Jackal after she watched Bran slump over, his eyes rolling up in his head. Jackal was quick, his reflexes just like the name of the animal he took as his own. Her arms were pinned painfully tight across her chest, her head slamming down into the mattress with force as Jackal pounced on her. His mouth was pulled back in a grin as his face loomed over hers.

"Sian Kore Healey. Kore. What an interesting middle name, _belle_. See, Kore was the spring goddess who eventually became Persephone. Ironic, since I'll be taking you to the Underworld," Jackal related to her, pulling off the bandage that hid his bite mark. Slowly, he flicked his tongue over the impressions. She cried out, pushing against him. "Maybe, if you're lucky, I'll be your Hades."

"Fuck you. I'll watch you die by my own hand," she whispered, hitting him with ice cold words that stopped him.

His head tilted, watching her eyes as they grew darker. Fear grew in him, much like it did when Evelyn decided to punish him. Now was not the time to do anything. He would have to wait for results and plead to the Atrox for something. He slid away from her for the time being, scooping up the fallen _servus_.

"Let's go. Go on and put your clothes on."

"Is Bran okay?" Her wide eyes were focused on the limp boy.

"He'll live. Get going!"

Quickly, she re-tied her top under the safety of the sheet, then pulled on her bloodied jeans. Inside her pocket, she felt the comforting weight of her cell phone and money. She could escape, call Dakota, and try to fight off Jackal, but at risk to Dakota, even with his abilities. Sighing, she climbed out of the bed and gathered up her shoes and Bran's clothing.

"Just don't hurt him," she told the animal, sealing her fate to where Bran went.

**XXXXX**

Nefandus was not what Sian was expecting. The tales of the Daughters of the Moon and Bran had told her of a nightmarish place that housed the people who swore allegiance to the Atrox. Yet, being here physically herself, Sian was not intimidated by the night city. She was, in fact, in awe of it. All this time, right next to her own world, there laid a world for shadows. She let her eyes sweep over the architecture hungrily as she began to feel something grow in her. She was in love with Nefandus, with the moonless sky that had bright, twinkling stars, with the cobble stoned streets that were right below her feet, with the buildings that rose up and conquered their spaces. Further on, she could see the geography of the surrounding landscape. She could have cared less that evil was rooted here; how could anyone hold that against such a beautiful sight?

"This is a first," Jackal laughed, killing her first impression of Nefandus and dragging the captive back to her body. She scowled at him for the interruption.

"What is?" She indulged him after a few minutes of glowering.

"Two things. I have never seen anyone look at this place with eyes like yours. Another thing, you can actually see Nefandus. You let go of me during our trip here." Jackal switched Bran's body to the other shoulder with little effort, a strange and curious gleam in his glowing green eyes.

"Of course I can." Sian growled, confused by his accusation. Was there a problem with seeing Nefandus?

"My, you are full of surprises."

People scurried past them as they walked through the city. Sian assumed most were _servi_ because of their said—and she generally meant pitiful—appearances. Occasionally, she caught glimpses of other Followers—or what she naturally assumed were Followers because they could actually just come up and _casually_ approach Jackal and send a greeting towards him--, but she didn't see clear faces because Jackal kept her well hidden. He was _protective_ of her and Bran.

Sian reached out, grabbing Jackal's shirt in her fist. He turned his head to look at her, a glare in his eye. "What's going to happen to us?"

"I'll take you to Evelyn. After that, I don't care," Jackal told her, shrugging with the unoccupied shoulder.

She stared at him in horror. "All that tracking and hunting down Bran, and it was all for…fun?"

"Partially. The other part was…" Jackal quit talking, letting a _serva_ run past them, half in shadow. "The other part was Evelyn ordered me to bring him back after a few days of his escape. No killing, but these was nothing about frightening him."

"Sick! You know that?"

"You want to stay here, _mon cherie_, you'll soon learn everyone is twisted."

"I'm sure."

Swiftly, Jackal had Bran put up against a wall before he turned on Sian, gripping her forearms and pulling her off the ground until her toes just barely touched the stone. "This isn't a game, little girl. You are about to meet Evelyn. She didn't get her position of power by playing nice, remember that. Whatever you may think of her, remember who she is!"

"Let me go!" Sian yelled at him, kicking out at his kneecaps. He dropped her, letting her fall onto the hard ground so that it jolted through her bones.

"We don't play nice, Sian."

"Neither do I."

"I hope so. For your slave's sake," he told her sincerely, stooping to lift Bran once again.

Sian felt confused as she sat on the cold ground, staring up at the hunter. "Why warn me?"

"Because I'm no longer hunting."

**XXXXX**

"Rayne, go get Evelyn," Jackal told a girl who seemed to be younger than Sian.

Rayne looked at Sian, smiling in shock. Her young face, covered in tribal tattoos, was completely open to Sian as they watched each other. The girl's head was completely bald, her skin a fresh olive brown probably from her Pacific Island heritage. Her eyes, however, looked coldly on at Sian, the brown rock hard like packed earth. "Wow! She looks like Evelyn!"

She reached out to stroke Sian's cheek, but Jackal slapped her hand away. "Don't touch."

"You're so possessive, you freak," Rayne barked, laughing at Jackal.

"Get Evelyn," Jackal repeated, easing his load as he put the slave on the floor.

Rayne snorted but left the room in search of Evelyn. "Bossy beast."

"You," Jackal said, looking at Sian. "Sit."

"I'd rather stand." She looked around the foyer, loving the detail and warmth. "It's beautiful in here."

"I hate it," Jackal replied, leaning against a wall near Sian.

"Why?" How could anyone hate this place?

"It's always the same, decade after decade. I sleep outside."

"Like a mangy mongrel, right, Jackal?"

Sian didn't believe she was so pretty, not after seeing her perfect twin standing only a few feet in front of her. Evelyn was everything she had been told and so much more. The only thing her mother wore was a white linen dress that fell around her knees; no jewelry and no shoes. Her hair was long and loose, slightly darker than her own with only a hint of red. She had a soft and beautiful face that didn't betray her age—for this was the magic of immortality. But it was her eyes that drew Sian in, that made her excited. For they were _her_ eyes, a grey that changed to pure white when she saw Sian.

"My daughter." Evelyn placed her hands on her hips, smiling at the awestruck girl. "Welcome home."

Tears slipped from Sian's eyes. She was overcome with the emotion of the moment, despite the cold feelings around her. She had finally met her mother.

**AN: And there you have it. The meeting of mother and daughter! How'd you like it?**

**Next Up: Bran throws a fit, Sian gets to know Evelyn's plans for her, and Dakota gets a surprise of his own.**


	11. Ten: Leading

**AN: I'm back…again. Lol. Enjoy!**

The pain that throbbed in his head was dull, but it popped along his temples regardless in an irritating manner. Bran cracked his eyes open slowly, groaning with the small effort.

"Bran Maxwell, you idiot," he scolded himself, remembering the events that led to his unconscious state. Jackal, invading his perfect moment with Sian. His jumping onto the bed. Staring in his eyes…_ Shit!_ Jackal had forced him to sleep to bring him, where, Nefandus again?

Did that mean he was now…?

Bran closed his eyes again, rolling over on the bed. Jackal—the bastard!—had brought him back to his place of slavery. He didn't want to feel like her did: terrified, docile, and used as a means.

But…Where was Sian? The question brought him out of his induced stupor as he dragged himself up to a sitting position. "Sian…"

The dimly lit chamber didn't answer back, but, then, he wasn't really expecting it to. He wasn't expecting Sian to be in the same room as him. If she was really Evelyn's daughter, and since she had such a power, she would be welcomed into the fold, even if her family was hunting the Atrox. He, however, would always be a _servus_, a dirty slave.

Bran felt cold, terrified, and alone. Did this make him less of a man for feeling like such a little boy? Now that he had been with Sian, talked with her and touched her, he couldn't just _lose_ her.

He howled with rage, flinging himself off the cot-like bed. "Sian!"

**XXXXX**

Meanwhile, as Bran destroyed the room he had been locked inside, consumed by his rage, Sian was with Evelyn, her shaky hands holding onto a hot cup of chamomile tea—for relaxation, Evelyn said. She tried to keep her hands still, but her nerves were completely fried. _My God, this is my mother_.

Evelyn flickered her brilliant smile at Sian before sipping some of her own tea. There were alone now, to talk. Sian was scared. She didn't have Bran with her—the girl, Rayne, had taken him away after Jackal was sent away—and now even Jackal, who wasn't exactly a source of comfort but made sure no one touched her, was gone. That smile, thought, made Sian feel so much better about herself.

"I know you probably hate me," Evelyn whispered, her eyes a stormy gray as she peered over the tea cup at her daughter.

"I…Hate is a strong word," Sian replied, shaking her head briskly. She frowned, summoning up her emotions concerning her long-lost mother. "Abandoned. Hurt. Those are better words."

Evelyn sighed, putting her cup down. "They are good. Those emotions help us choose."

"Choose?" Sian asked, confused.

"Who we turn, who we steal hope from." Evelyn turned her head to the side, seeming to size up Sian's reaction.

Sian took a deep breath. Would her own mother turn her? Maybe. Did she _want_ to be turned to the Atrox? Again, maybe. She could be with Evelyn the, and she could be with Bran.

"I see."

Reaching across the table, Evelyn grasped Sian's hand, squeezing it. Sian gasped, shocked at the little bit of intimacy between mother and daughter. "While I can't lay out everything for you, I can tell you this: It is your choice whether or not to join the Atrox."

Sian sipped the tea slowly. It was warm and sweet, refreshing on her parched throat. It soothed her nerves some as it settled nice and hot in her stomach. She watched Evelyn, unsure of what she should say to the statement.

"You want me to convert?"

"I promise you, it's not as bad as they say. I will explain everything to you. I will tell you everything you wish to know," Evelyn promised, her eyes twinkling in the candlelight. It was too good to be true.

"Everything?" Sian breathed, her face open in child-like innocence. Her mother. Evelyn was amazing.

"Of course." Evelyn could not moss the worship growing apparent in her daughter's eyes. "I can't right now, but I'm sure you don't want to talk anyway."

"No, that's not true. Please," the girl pleaded.

"No. For now, silence is key. You need a nice bath and a change of clothes." Evelyn snapped her fingers, smiling at Sian.

Rayne came into the room on the sound. Her light fingers squeezed Sian's arm tightly, pulling the bewildered girl up. "Come on now, girlie."

"I…Uh…Mm," Sian sighed, following the tattooed girl out of the room. She turned to look back at her mother, but she had already disappeared.

**XXXXX**

The bath water was scented, but Sian couldn't put her finger on the exact scent. It wafted up to her nose, enveloping her as she sank into the water. Hot water that sloshed away particles of dirt and blood from her skin and heated her tense muscles. Her mother was right; she needed this bath now.

How lucky could she be? God. Evelyn was amazing. She was smart and beautiful and wanted to have her around. How was that for absolute perfection?

"Rayne…Rayne!" Sian called out, turning her head on the ceramic tub to look at the large door.

"What? Finished already?" Rayne called back through the door.

"Um, no. I want to know where Bran is. Can you bring him here?"

"To your bath?"

"Of course," Sian replied, sighing into the water. She wouldn't have asked for him otherwise.

She heard noise outside the door and then silence ensued. Her eyes stayed trained on the door, waiting.

"Rayne! _Rayne!_ Where is he? Bring Bran to me! Bring him _here_!" She screamed, throwing her head back to howl at the tattooed Follower. She was throwing a tantrum now, but it didn't matter. He mattered. And she needed to know that he was okay.

"Quit that! You sound like a child screaming for her lost toy. You, get in there before she does something like gouge her pretty eyes out," Rayne hissed.

A moment later, the door was opened, and the figure of Bran stepped through the threshold. She smiled leisurely up at him as the door was shut behind him, but it soon faded away at the new marks on him. Cuts and bruises, blood and that old scar of his marred his skin.

"Bran!" A fire smoldered and lit up in her, seeing him such a state. And where was she while this was happening? Fawning over her dear mother.

Bran waved a dismissive hand at her. "It's okay. It looks a lot worse than it feels."

She sat up in the tub, leaning over its side and beckoned him forward. "Who did this to you?"

He saw the look in her eyes, the way they darkened so quickly and was reminded strongly of Evelyn. Evelyn was already influencing her. Of course, the _lecta_ didn't get where she was by being quiet and submissive.

"No one. I did this to myself. They had me…locked up again," he admitted, staring at his destructive hands. "It won't be long now before they begin drugging me again."

"Drugging you?" Sian squeaked, appalled at the thought. Bran had told her the night before how _servi_ stayed obedient. "They won't!"

He sat next to the tub, his face tired and pinched with worry. Taking her wet hand, he lightly traced it with his lips, trying to live the moment forever. "You have no say here, Sian. You're nothing in Nefandus."

"But…Evelyn—"

"Will never let me go. I am her property."

She growled, wrenching her hand away from him. "You're not property, Bran! You're not!"

"As far as they're concerned, I am. That is the way of the followers of evil. Do you get that?" His voice was sharp and cut her deep because, no, she didn't get that.

Why wouldn't Evelyn let Bran be with her?

He cupped the back of her head, letting his fingers get tangled up in her wet hair. Their foreheads connected as he rested against her. "I can see you're not getting it, Sian."

"It's hard. I mean, she's my mother. I know she cares about me! She wouldn't take you away!" Sian exclaimed, defending her mother to the fullest.

She watched him close his eyes, a funny sound whistling through his lips. Damn, Sian. What is this blind spot you've just developed?"

Slowly, she found his mouth, kissing away the growing numbness pitted in her gut. She wasn't blind; he was just wrong.

**XXXXX**

Dakota spent the third night Sian was missing in her room. He was curled up in her unmade bed, staring at the few knick-knacks she had bothered to unpack. On the night stand next to the bed was a framed picture of the family. Not the large family, the _clan _that he consulted like a good little extension of it, but their family. Her dad, his mom, and the two of them, holding each other's little hands in the comfort of innocence.

They were so cute then. Two lost kids getting used to the missing parent now thrust into their lives, and all they had was each other to really depend on.

Dakota's heart ached for her to be around again. It ached for her to come home so that they could be a family. It wasn't a love that was between two people that was physical. Sure, he wasn't going to deny that he succumbed to a certain lust directed towards the girl, but the feeling of absolute missing, that was because he just lost his little sister. He promised his parents that he'd take care of Sian, and now she was gone.

Why had she run away? Was it because of what was happening, him pushing her away, consulting the family? Did she leave home because of her power hiding deep in her?

It wasn't weak for a man to cry. This was why he turned over and let his tears soak her pillow. Sian was the only true family he had left now.

The cell phone in his hand went off, chiming its loud ring. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. By the tone, he knew it wasn't Sian. Over and over, he tried to call her, but all he got was this weird buzzing noise emitted by the phone.

"Hello Carol?" He spoke into the phone, hoping his voice didn't betray his tears.

"Well, I guess it's safe to assume she hasn't returned," Carol deduced, her voice like steel.

Dakota never did understand the role Carol played, but he knew enough to be afraid of the woman.

"You would know."

"You're getting rough with me, too. Lovely," Carol commented dryly.

"Quite. If you knew she wouldn't be here, why bother calling me, Carol?"

"A warning. Don't listen to the girls, Dakota. You listen to me. Don't listen to the girls."

"What girls?" Dakota asked, confused. He didn't have any girls talking to him, and he didn't understand how this dealt with Sian.

"Just follow my advice, okay? It won't do you any good to listen to them" Carol repeated, her voice harsher.

"Yeah, Okay, Carol. I get it," he told her, nodding his head even though she couldn't see him. He pressed the end button, threw the phone across the floor, and curled up.

Heavy banging woke him up later, raising him out of a restless sleep. Growling and glaring at a wall, he stepped out of Sian's bed. The banging persisted as he got closer to the font door, and now he could hear muffled voices outside of it that were definitely female. They buzzed, partially excited, mostly worried, but they held vital information. He felt all that on them.

Opening the door, he was confronted with four girls: a blonde, a Hispanic, and two brunettes. The girls Sian had been hanging out with recently.

"You're Sian's brother, right?" The Hispanic asked, stepping forward and taking charge.

"I'm Dakota," he confirmed, gripping his front door.

"We think we know where Sian is," she continued. "You might want to sit down for this."

**Next Up: Dakota agrees to a dangerous mission, and Sian learns what her true fate within the Atrox is about to be.**


	12. Eleven: A Dying King's Unfulfilled Wish

**AN: Well. I know my updates for this have been incredibly slow, and I'm really sorry for that. At least the story is winding down and coming up on it's last few chapters!!**

Dakota couldn't even nod. How do you agree with or encourage such an outrageous story as the on told to him just then? He chewed on the inside of his cheek, probing each of the girls. He got a great variety of different emotions, but the sense of dishonesty was not one of them. Still… How do you believe a story like that one?

"So…You're saying that my sister, Sian, has been kidnapped…by the Atrox?" He asked slowly, playing with his cell phone.

"Yes. You know what that is, right?" Vanessa, the blonde one, asked him, excited that he could summarize all the information given to him.

"Well, yeah. Hard to grow up in my family and _not_ hear about the Atrox. You four are telling me that this evil is real? That it's really existed this entire time and that my family isn't crazy?"

"Oh, your family is still crazy," Serena, one of the brunettes, confirmed, smirking at him.

"Tell me about it," Dakota agreed with a short laugh.

"It's hard to digest at first, isn't it?" The Hispanic, Jimena, pondered, a soft smile on a face that seemed rough to Dakota, but out of all of them, she held the most sympathy for the entire situation. She was good friend to his sister.

"No. I mean, I knew Sian was never a believer, especially after her dad died, but I always knew how our powers came to be was totally real."

Dakota looked at each of them, and each of them looked back at Dakota.

"So, are you girls just going to sit here, or are you going to take me to her?"

"You want us to take you to Nefandus?" Catty exclaimed, highly surprised. "It's dangerous."

Serena nodded. "Can you handle it, Dakota?"

"My sister deserves to be saved, don't you agree?"

**XXXXXX**

Evelyn let her dark eyes linger over Sian and Bran, her face poised and emotions buried. Bran had his eyes lowered, no longer defiant as he had been the night he escaped. He cowered like a slave behind her daughter, seeking protection. That was okay. She'd let his false hope continue on for a little bit longer.

"I see you two found your ways back to each other," the _lecta_ commented, folding her hands in her lap.

Sian glanced at the _servus_, smiling at him with a cocky attitude before turning back to her mother. "Bran said that you wouldn't let him be with me. That's not true, is it?"

Evelyn's eyes remained dark, sending shivers throughout Bran's body. Displeasure. She reeked with displeasure. "I've been nothing but good to Bran. If you want him, my daughter, _keep him_."

Sian continued smiling, but she felt something wrong. Sian's eyes betrayed her emotions, and she was sure the same went for Evelyn. Evelyn wasn't as good as she thought she was. Sian could tell something was wrong with Evelyn.

"Well, I came back to speak with you because it's time to know your reason for existing," Evelyn laughed, especially at her daughter's confused look.

"My reason for existing?" Sian let a blank look drop over her face like a mask.

"Mm, yes. Your existence, why your family is around. Your very purpose in this life."

"Why we…have these powers, you mean," Sian got out from the little her mother said.

"Exactly. Are you two ready for this story the Atrox told me personally?"

Bran glanced at Sian, wondering about this tale that delved into her family's history, but she was staring rapt her mother. He didn't like his, but he sat back in the chair to listen as well.

"A long time ago, there was king, as you well know, Sian. This king was the proclaimed enemy of my master, the Atrox. The king had three sons: the eldest was called Maxim, and he was a great warrior; the middle son was called Robert, and he was more of a scholar than anything; and then there was Stanton, who was kidnapped by the Atrox and became his heir. As I said, Stanton was kidnapped by a man named Lambert. Maxim was killed in battle against the Atrox. The only one to live until age began to set in was Robert, your ancestor.

"As you know, Robert was made to swear to his dying father to destroy the Atrox. How does a book worm go about destroying true evil? Well, Robert spent many years trying to figure that one out. In the mean time, he had two children, a girl and then a boy. A few more years, and Robert lost it. He begged the gods of old for a way to fight the Atrox."

Sian nodded, recognizing her father's bed time story. Only there were names for the characters this time around. These were real people now, people who were her _family_. She thought about it, and she came to a shocking revelation. "Is my uncle around. Uh, I mean, Stanton?"

"Beautiful boy," Evelyn answered, a smile curling up on her face. "Of course, you two look nothing alike."

"So, this is the part where Sian's ancestor got powers for his family because he was a sacrifice?" Bran interjected, bringing the conversation back to where they were.

A low chuckle came from Evelyn's throat. Sian turned her head, looking at the _servus_ first before letting her eyes hit her mother again. "Not quite. You have the fairy tale version of your history, Sian."

"Is there another version?" Her interest was peaking.

"That wasn't a force of good that granted your ancestor his wish. It was the Atrox listening in that night, the Atrox that tricked Robert into giving up his life. Your life has been intertwined with my master's plans, daughter."

Bran sucked in air quickly. What influence didn't the Atrox have?

"What do you mean?" The girl quickly asked, eyebrows furrowed and dark gray eyes narrowed. "We destroyed members of the Atrox before."

"You have heard of the Daughters of the Moon, right?" She waited until Sian nodded before continuing. "Your family was tricked into thinking they were the bad guys. You destroyed them. You're all like the blood hounds of the Atrox."

Sian let it sink in, trying to get a grip on the new information. They had killed people just like Jimena and Catty. They had destroyed them thinking they were taking out the minions of evil. Was that why she had those feelings in the club when she looked at Serena, the urge to hunt and kill?

"My whole history is a sham," Sian whispered, mostly to herself. He lover heard her, though, and he felt for her, wanting to comfort her. "Dad believed in him so much, in our king's wish."

Evelyn's mouth twitched when she began talking about her dad. "I'm not done yet."

"What more could you tell her?" Bran demanded, his voice hard and snippy.

"I would hold your tongue, _servus_. I've destroyed higher ranking persons than you." Evelyn snapped back, growling at the boy. He shut up, and even seemed to get further away from the _lecta_.

"He's right. What more _could_ you tell me? Was it planned by the Atrox, too, for you to hook up with Dad?" Sian retorted incredulously.

"Yes. That's correct."

"I was being sarcastic…"

The beautiful immortal shrugged, her face bland as she tried her best to keep from the emotions that still existed within her. "The Atrox had a plan when he gave your ancestor his gifts. It would take awhile for the plan to come together, but waiting was something my master could handle."

Sian shivered with the eerie way her mother delivered her words. "What plan?"

"An ultimate hunter, one who could track down her enemies and take death. You, Sian, are that _huntress_, the one the Atrox planned for. I was happy to be a vessel for a new age of darkness."

"You mean… This gift I have, this demon, was cultivated by the Atrox?"

"Good. You understand. And you're so powerful, you just don't know. You have the gift of death, my dear. A killing machine that's already struck."

"What? No!" Sian exclaimed, her features twisting in disgust and horror. Bran watched her with wide eyes. "I've never killed anyone."

"You have, Sian," Evelyn sighed, exasperated already with the arguing. "Your parents. _You killed them_. Don't you understand?"

Stunned silence filled Sian's ears. That was impossible, wrong, and truly evil. Sian didn't kill her _parents_. Why would she have killed them? _How_ could she have killed them? She loved them both; there was absolutely no way she could have done that.

"Bran…" She finally managed to get out, her voice cracking.

"Sian, about your gift, she's right. I've felt it for awhile now, and it is strong. It was your gift, your demon, that kept you safe from Jackal," Bran admitted, sorry that she had to find out about this. "It's possible you killed your father and stepmother."

She hissed, unable to accept these words, this idea. Why would she do it? She loved her parents. How could she even unconsciously kill them?

"You're dangerous, Sian," her mother whispered, emphasizing her words with eyebrows raised.

Sian clenched her hands into fists, balling them up and releasing them in a continuous motion. She wanted them to quit talking to her, to quit talking about her. Was that so difficult?

Bran reached over, stroking Sian's face lovingly, the tendrils of her angered "demon" lashing out at his hand. "It's okay, girl. It's okay."

Evelyn twitched as she pursed her mouth up. "The Atrox made your family to get a hold of you, Sian. You belong to him."

"I don't have a choice, do I?" She asked bitterly, flashing her dark eyes at the woman.

"You have a choice. Choose wisely," Evelyn advised, a wicked grin on her beautiful face.

Bran stared at Sian with incredibly wide eyes. "Don't join the Atrox! Get out of here."

"B-Bran."

"Shut your mouth!" Evelyn jumped up from her seat.

"All the Atrox is emptiness. Don't choose it."

Evelyn moved her hand quickly, hitting air around her, but when you had powers of the mind, what you connected with didn't really matter. Bran flew back, the chair he was in tumbling over as his whole body slammed into the wall behind them. He shuddered, coughing and groaning, but he was already getting up on his hands and knees. The air crackled with energy—raging energy that Sian wasn't sure who it was directed at exactly.

The daughter watched with angry eyes. She was angry at Bran for being too protective. She was angry at Evelyn for attacking him. Who would do that? The Atrox, the empty Atrox with its power-hungry monsters. She… What was this compulsive need to be _one of them_? _A monster? _She _wanted_ to be a monster?

"Evelyn." Sian said her name in a firm voice, her throat gravelly, her eyes narrowed. The woman turned to her, chin up.

"What do you want, Sian? Don't you want to be with Bran forever, be with your mother? Don't you want to belong?"

From behind her, Bran sat on his knees, shaking his head violently. "No!"

Those words of his cut her deep, but it was true. She wanted to belong, to be accepted. Her chest heaved irregularly, as if she were short of breath. This was a crazy choice she had to make.

"You told me I had a choice, Evelyn. I don't get your need for violence right now." She spoke slowly, deliberately. The air along her skin crackled, but she didn't realize it was because her own energy was building.

"Choose wisely," Evelyn said in a low, threatening growl. "The Atrox has a nasty habit of getting what it wants, Sian. You can come quietly, or be swept dangerously in.'

Sian felt a rise of power within herself, felt the crawl of something of a mixed light. It lived within her, the mixture of dark and light, and finally she could recognize it. This was her gift.

"Please, Sian. Don't do this," Bran pleaded from behind her.

She didn't know what to do with her gift. It slid along inside her, waiting to be used, but the only times it was used, she never even realized it. She consciously know how to release the demon.

She took steps back, towards her lover, but Evelyn laughed. "You can't do anything, can you, daughter? You can't attack me!"

Sian's eyes were big as Evelyn pinpointed what happened. There was nothing the girl could do but grab Bran and run, _escape_. "Don't do this."

"You can't do anything against me!" Evelyn jeered.

Bran grasped onto Sian's wrist with both hands. He was weak, pathetic, a nothing _servus_, but he would do everything possible to keep her from turning to the Atrox. "Sian…"

He was begging, pleading, and she wondered what she should do. "I…"

Evelyn's sizzling white eyes pierced hers as she looked up. Seconds later, all she saw was eternal darkness.

**Next Up: Everyone's favorite sadistic Follower is back! And I totally mean Jackal. **


	13. Twelve: An Unlikely Alliance

"_Bonsoir, mon petite déesse. Je suis impatiente et je doute qu'ils attendent. _Come on, Persephone."

The voice irritated the girl out of her current state. She groaned, slowly opening her eyes to get a full view of the sadistic hunter himself staring down at her.

"My name…is Sian," she mumbled, licking her dry lips.

"_Oui_," Jackal agreed, sitting back as Sian sat up. "But I quite enjoy calling you Persephone. _J'aime taquiner. Il amuse moi._"

Sian narrowed her eyes in a struggle to understand the French Jackal was spewing at her. She'd hate to see him speak a whole conversation with somebody in French. Unless… "What's with the cheesy French accent?"

"It's just old, not cheesy. What use is there to speak French among those who can read your mind? I just think it."

She closed her eyes, not quite sure if she should laugh or cower in fear from this personality of Jackal. "So, what? The French accent isn't just to lure in some helpless victims?"

"_Non._ I was born in Martinque, the son of wealthy plantation owner who were born and raised in France. I grew up speaking French. I am French. I can't help if young girls looking for something more are attracted to it. Besides, Little Eve, I haven't turned anyone in a long time."

Sian harrumphed, giving him a look that screamed, 'Yeah, right.' He grinned, teeth exposed, at her mouth pulling up in the corner as a smirk.

He leaned in close, relishing her weakness. Not everyone could recover so quickly from an attack by a _lecta, _but she was coming along just fine. So now was the best time to move in on her, while she couldn't attack him. She growled, pulling her head back and away.

"I said I haven't turned anyone in a long time. It's not a lie, Persephone—"

"Sian!" She exclaimed.

"I am not one of those. I'm what they call a _venatore_. A hunter," Jackal whispered in her ear.

Sian's breathing hitched as she feebly pushed at the hunter's chest. "A hunter of what?"

He rested against her hands, playing games with her. The part of her mind that he broke through flashed with different thoughts at once. He tried to focus in on them, but he hadn't broken in far enough to stop the flood without concentration.

"Renegades, mostly. But sometimes I get special requests from the Atrox, the _Cincti_, the Chosen Ones. From what I hear, though, you're special to the Atrox," Jackal teased, his body still leaned over and pressing onto her shaking hands.

"Me…?"

"Yes. You're like me.'

"I'm nothing like you," she sneered, pulling her lip up and away from her top teeth.

He laughed. "_Excusez-moi, mademoiselle. _Did I hit a sore spot? You feeling a _fire_ in you, one telling you to be bad? Do you want to hurt something, steal something?"

She clenched her jaw, wondering how he could so easily read her mind and those feelings she'd been trying to suppress. "I get it, okay? Just…get off me."

He sat up, releasing her poor hands which fell to her side. "If I didn't like you so much, Persephone, I wouldn't be so friendly."

"This is friendly?" Sian sat up, holding her swimming head in her hands.

"Mm. So, you want to know why you're here?"

Sian took a few deep breaths, remembering the anger filling the room when she faced down Evelyn. Something clenched at her heart when she thought of her mother attacking Bran and forcing on her the choice to become part of the Atrox. Evelyn said she had a choice when it came to the Atrox, and she was right; Sian had a choice to be one of them or attacked.

She was actually beginning to get it, but that didn't mean it wasn't hurting.

"What, you decided to swoop in and be the Gallant Hero, rescuing me from a royal ass kicking by my birth mother who is, honestly, better looking than me and looks to be my sister really?" She asked sarcastically, sneering, once again, at Jackal.

He sneered right back, getting into her face. She recoiled slightly. "Nothing so romantic. They tossed you into the street. So, Evelyn kicked your ass? Ha! I did warn you that she didn't play fair, _mon cherie."_

"On the street?" Her body shook. They just discarded her like she was nothing. Who did things like that?

"Like trash. Welcome to my world," he laughed, leaning further to let the tip of his tongue flick across her check. She screamed at the contact, reaching her hand up to slap him.

Jackal let her hand sting his skin angrily. He gave a little moan at the slap, closing his eyes and breathing it in. "You like it rough too, huh?"

She looked at him in disgust, standing up with dizzying effects, her mind swimming. He smiled still, reaching his hand up to hold her waist before she fell. She leaned into the touch, supporting herself. His teeth gleamed up at her, his green eyes bright.

"You're a fool," Sian croaked, feeling a pit of emptiness as she used words—not very good words, but demeaning words all the same—to cut her "rescuer" down. She was so angry, so angry at how they could just treat her.

"Well, we are in the same boat, hm?" He asked as he stood up next to her, dropping his hand from her waist.

Jackal moved away from her, the game for him ending now. He opened to door to the little shelter they were in, opening it to the darkened skies and twinkling stars.

"Where is he, Jackal?" she demanded, knowing she would dread the answer.

"Who, my dearest goddess?" He joked, turning his head to put his gaze on hers.

"You know who," Sian hissed, sending her energy out. It brushed up against him, and he tensed, a sense of fear growing in those electric eyes as he remembered her power.

"The _servus_. _Petit ami, out? Non._ The slave boy is more than that," Jackal mumbled, nodding as he spoke to himself.

Sian looked upon him with the face of hopelessness, her eyes closing slowly. "T-tell me he's not…"

"He's not dead. Nor has Evelyn sent him to the arena."

She held herself, a sigh of relief going off in her mind. He was alive, able to save. "The…arena?"

"_Oui_. The arena, where they send _servi_ to die at the hands of the Regulators. A sport, if you will, for the Immortals. Me, I see no pleasure in it. Where's the hunt, the chase?" Jackal shrugged, like the past times of evil were fanciful and boring at best.

"Evelyn has him."

"He does belong to her," he reminded the girl with a grin. "Bran is her favorite toy."

She growled and leapt at the hunter, hating his foul remarks that baited her so easily. In a swift movement, he had her arms pinned above her, her body shoved roughly into the door jam. His face turned to stone as he checked her.

"Don't, little on. Anger that goes uncontrolled here can get you into big trouble," he warned, squeezing her captured wrists tightly.

"Shut up. I don't care, I don't care," she cried, spitting at him.

He laughed, letting her go so he could wipe his face. She slid to the ground in silence.

She didn't know what to do, how to fix this. Bran was with Evelyn, and Evelyn could destroy him. She had no choice.

"I have to rescue him, Jackal."

"_Oui_. I suspected as much. He is your weakness. If Evelyn wanted something from you, it would be the slave," Jackal told her. "However, she will be expecting that. She wants to control you, to further her agenda. She'll do whatever she can to make you hers because the Atrox obviously wants you. She's more important if you're her pet."

Sian listened to him while a cold numb settled in her bones. She was the meal ticket because she was the Atrox's Huntress, his perfect design for defeating his enemies.

"And I look just like her. She can claim me," the girl realized, touching her cheeks with the tips of her fingers.

"Yeah. I believe that would help."

She bit her lip, glancing up at the monster before her. "Help me."

He snorted. "Why?"

"So we can bring down Evelyn."

"The Atrox won't like that," Jackal warned.

"He will, because he'll be gaining me," Sian decided.

"I knew you were meant for the dark side," he laughed, looking her over with new appraisal.

"In return for this, though, you have to work for me," she told him, her eyes as dark as the night.

"Done," he accepted, no hesitation in his voice.

"I'm going to hurt her," she whispered.

Jackal pursed his lips, snorting again. "How? No offense, _mon cherie_, but how do you expect to destroy _Evelyn_? You can't control your gift, and she already hurt you."

She nodded, realizing that problem already. "I'll have you."

Jackal was strong. He was an Immortal. And he possessed skills that obviously made him useful. Sian needed him, needed those qualities to make Evelyn and her Followers squirm.

"Persephone, they treat me the way they do for a reason. I have nothing on them."

Sian stood up. "You're Jackal. Don't go soft on me now."

He latched onto her arm, teeth bared."No one's soft around here."

"Sick. Maybe you should take care of that then," she teased, her eyes flickering to his crotch. He was scared of Evelyn, her mother. She needed to do something to build morale in the hunter. After all, one terrified person—and she was that _one_—was enough for the time.

Eyebrows furrowed, he crushed Sian to him, their hips pressed tightly together. "Are you willing?"

She tore away from him, emotionless. "Fuck you."

"I am your Hades, Persephone. Remember that," came the sadistic laugh.

**AN: This chapter was a little shorter than the rest, but I was running out of inspiration as I was writing it. I hope you liked our little tidbit of Jackal time, though there is much more to come. Originally, I had planned to make him a bad guy, too, and have Sian kill him off, but somewhere in the middle of the story, Jackal changed for me. And for Sian.**

**Translations:** _Bonsoir, mon petite deesse. Je suis impatiente et je doute qu'ils attendent- _Good evening, my small goddess. I am impatient and I doubt that they wait.

_ J'aime taquiner. Il amuse moi.-_ I like to tease. It amuses me.

_Excusez-moi, mademoiselle.-_ Excuse me, miss.

**Next Up: As Sian and Jackal prepare, somehow, to take on Evelyn and her Followers, Dakota and the Daughters show up. But will they be a help to the Follower and Huntress, or end up a hindrance?**


	14. Thirteen: Dakota and the Daughters

**AN: This chapter has been a long time coming, but I've honestly had no inspiration to write it for such a long time. But I decided during my holiday break that I was really going to sit down and write the end to this story. In any case, here's the next chapter.**

Sian and Jackal didn't immediately go for Evelyn's jugular. They both knew that would be pure suicide, for Sian at least—since Jackal was an Immortal Follower. No, they planned first, Jackal telling Sian all of the Followers under the _lecta's_ command, and how they would present problems for the two unlikely partners.

Sian was at the biggest disadvantage, especially since, truth be told, her gift of "causing death" didn't exactly work at her will. It truly was a demon, with a mind and agenda of its own. Jackal viewed her as the wild card, a potential threat against themselves even.

She was nervouse, and the Follower could feel it. What was she going to bring to the table? The thought kept going through her mind, attacking her, but not crushing her spirit.

"You really want to rescue him, even though she's leading you to a trap?" Jackal asked her as they walked through the dark alley ways of Nefandus.

"I'm heading to her place now, aren't I?" Sian fired back, her dark eyes flashing at him.

The chuckle was forced, but welcome. "We'll either triumph or die."

"Touching," she grumbled. Not exactly the encouragement that she wished for, but she wasn't greedy right now. She just wanted to get it done, get Bran back.

"I can be," Jackal mentioned, his hand touching her shoulder gently, the fingers lingering on her. They burned through her skin.

"Touching?"

"Greedy."

Her eyes drifted up to his face, lingering there as he finally took his hand away, dropping it at his side. "Are you reading my mind? I thought that you couldn't."

"I opened up just a tiny bit of your, uh, _shield_, for lack of a better term. I can read bits of your thoughts if they are up front."

They continued on from there in complete silence, sticking to the darkest alleys Sian had ever been forced to walk in. She kept close to Jackal, her body nearly touching his as he led her ever closer to Evelyn's. She felt a little twinge go off inside her. It was just a little thought, really, but she just wanted to run and run far. A little bit later, Jackal held out his arm in front of her. She collided into it, not quite able to make it out in the darkness.

"There's someone out there," he whispered to her, his trained eyes focusing like a hunter's.

"Who?" She was thinking Rayne, who just seemed like she wanted to take a piece of Sian.

He let her move in front of him so that she could see better. Sure enough, out in the darkness, there were five silhouetted bodies. Four of those bodies belonged to the girls known as Daughters of the Moon, her first real friends in L.A. Her only friends…

The last body, the last silhouette was recognized as her stepbrother. She hissed as she made out the face of Dakota. Years of seeing him let her make no mistake, as much as she wanted to have.

What had Jimena been thinking when she let the Daughters of the Moon bring in her Dakota? Was this some ploy to make her leave with them?

"Jackal?" His name was on her lips in the same instant she recognized Dakota.

"They are here for you. To save you. The boy, Dakota, he senses you. Your feelings of doubt and worry and excitement have him on your scent like a hound dog." The Immortal turned to look at her. "What are you so excited about? The fight, the _kill_?"

_Well, we could use the help to save Bran,_ Sian admitted to herself.

"I don't know… Should we greet them?"

His eyes fell on her face, a non-committal shrug dancing in his orbs. "You're the one executing this plan."

She stepped forward onto the nearly vacated street, exposing herself to the group of five. Five pairs of wary eyes turned to her, apprehensive and stiff. The moment they recognized her, however, the apprehension melted away a little.

"Sian…" Dakota smiled at her, obviously relieved to see her again.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sian fired at him angrily.

"I came to find you. What are you doing, Sian?"

She bit her lip. "I belong here." Her eyes darted from him to the Daughters. "This is my home, and my property has been taken from me. Will you help us?"

"Us?" Serena demanded, her green eyes narrowed.

Jackal stepped up behind Sian, his smile wide in a way to shock the goddesses. It certainly took Dakota by surprise as his eyes widened and a tremor went through him. The Daughters growled with their displeasure, but Jimena just stared with a calm demeanor, something Sian admired right then immensely. She seemed to understand the sides both of them belonged to now, regardless.

"All the better that this Follower sees what I see in Sian," Jimena reasoned to the girls, and the raised hackles smoothed out a bit, claws disappearing. "It's not like we've never accepted help from Stanton before."

Serena snorted, but kept her comments to herself.

"Look, we don't have the time for all these damn conversations. We want to hit Evelyn, we need to go now!" Jackal interrupted. Annoyance radiated off the Immortal. It was one thing to fight along side the death goddess, but quite another to get involved with the Daughters of the Moon.

"Hit who? Sian, are you going to attack someone?" Dakota questioned. Worry rang in his voice.

"Dakota, she took Bran from me," Sian explained. No one seemed to understand how much she needed him, even if they didn't know about him.

"Who's Bran? Who's this Evelyn?"

"_Dieu!_ _Ultérieur! _Do any of you have any way of helping out?" Jackal exploded. Sian looked up at him, shaking her head a little. He sighed, looking away.

"We don't…Exactly have powers in Nefandus. Except for Catty," Serena mentioned finally.

Sian felt a twitch coming on. No powers… The only one worth anything was Jackal at the moment. What kind of recon team had she brought together now?

"It's not as hopeless as it seems," Dakota spoke up, pulling everyone's emotions and voicing their concerns.

Jackal gave a mirthless laugh. "You are in Nefandus. Of course it is hopeless."

"No," Sian spoke up. She was suddenly hit with inspiration, the idea sparking through her. "It's not."

"Care to elaborate?" Jimena asked, confused like everyone else.

"Provide distractions. Distract enough Followers for Jackal and I to take on Evelyn. And Rayne. Please," she begged the five. The Daughters exchanged looks between each other, but Dakota stared openly at Jackal, shifting slightly on his feet.

"_Si-vous plait_," Jackal repeated, but with less feeling.

Vanessa's blonde brows rose high on her forehead. "A distraction sounds dangerous," she mumbled. But that was it.

They were _mostly_ convinced.

The manor house loomed before them ominously, the candle lanterns flickering in the night air. While Jackal stood placidly, Sian felt a shiver run through her. It wasn't a shiver of fright, but cold anticipation. Even though she couldn't properly control her gift, it slid along in her veins and she _knew_ this inner demon wouldn't fail her when the time came.

Dakota grabbed her wrist in a tight grip. "Are you going to come home?" His voice was quiet as he tried to create a private moment.

"I am home," she answered, knowing it to be the truth.

"So, how are we going—" Catty began to ask, but paused when the door opened.

Rayne stood in the doorway. "Well, look at what the baby brought home. Mommy is waiting for you, little Siany."

Sian stepped up to Rayne. They stood chest to chest, neither girl backing down. But Sian could smell Rayne's fear, began to taste it. _She was scared of Sian_.

"One day, I'll get you," Sian whispered in her ear, filling her voice with enough venom to send a subtle shiver across the Follower's body.

"You can enter, baby girl, but the trash stays out here."

Behind them, a few more Followers, Evelyn's lot, materialized. A sigh escaped Jackal as he looked between them all.

"Persephone, my goddess. I will stay with the losers while you get your _servus_," Jackal told her, his eyes on Rayne.

"Am I one of these 'losers', Jackal?" Rayne hissed.

Sian turned to Dakota and Jimena. "Be careful!" Then she turned around, ran past Rayne, and fled into the manor in search of her mother.

"You are always a loser, Rayne," Jackal happily told her, those demonic eyes glinting.

The Maori girl laughed, a vicious little melody.

Behind him, Jackal heard the sounds of scuffling and running as Sian's little losers tried to fight while holding onto the girl Catty. However, his eyes stayed trained on Rayne. She moved around on the stairs as he stood still at the bottom of the stoop. He let his tongue run along his lips in anticipation.

"I've been waiting so long for this. Too long, Rayne."

"Oh, little puppy. What do you think you are? You're a lowly messenger for Evelyn," Rayne reminded.

"You kiss that bitch's ass like she's something to worship!" Jackal spat.

Her eyebrows came together angrily and red tint spotted her dark cheeks. "She is a _lecta_. Our master chose her!"

Jackal waved the exclamation away, uncaring. "The Atrox would choose any girl with a beautiful body to be in the Cold Fire. Men, too."

With a wild cry, Rayne leapt on Jackal, fists flying. They pounded on his face, her knees squeezing into his sides. A slew of French screeched in Rayne's ears as Jackal fought her off. His large hands wrapped around her head and he flung her off of him with one strong push. She flew a few feet but caught herself by getting a softer landing, her body enveloped in darkness. He wiped at his face before advancing on her. Air blew angrily through her nose.

"Puppy Boy, Puppy Boy!" She taunted.

It was instantaneous, the power that gripped her aged mind. It squeezed the inside of her head and brought her roughly to her knees. With wide eyes, she stared at Jackal. She realized true terror in those moments.

"I would never have a greater pleasure than knowing I collapsed your mind, made it explode in your skull. I could settle for the knowledge everyday that you would know I could kill you. In a way. And the moment I finished with you, I'd give your body to the Regulators. I'm sure they'd find a use for you," Jackal spoke in a soft voice, his French accent casting shadows over his words.

The fear danced in her eyes. It was like a beautiful candle light, flickering in a breeze over and over again. To him, there was nothing sweeter, nothing more glorifying than that look. If only it was Evelyn instead of Rayne.

He knelt before her, keeping his hold. He heard the rate at which his breath came out, excitement pulsing through him.

"I can live with having you, though."

"Bas…tard," Rayne breathed out.

"Name calling at a time like this? Admirable, Rayne. Truly."

A few screams sounded behind Jackal, and he suddenly remembered the Daughters. A change in the air rippled around them, but he knew that if he turned, he would have Rayne anymore. Then Sian burst through the front door, eyes black as the surrounding night. In fact, as Jackal tore his gaze to Sian, he saw tiny streaks of white in her irises, like starbursts. He mouth opened wide.

"DAKOTA!"

Both Followers turned towards Dakota. Evelyn stood above his limp body, her eyes every bit as dark as her daughter's.

"You think you can come in here, Sian, and fight me without consequence?" Evelyn screamed at her, her whole body leaning into it.

"Dakota…" Sian's body shook as her tears glistened her cheeks. Her fists struck his chest in sync with the whisper of his name.

Jackal looked away from the scene to the manor. Where was Bran?

**Next Up: What happened when Sian went inside to confront Evelyn? Where's Bran, and is Dakota dead? Huntress is nearly over!**


	15. Fourteen: Pomegranate Seeds

**AN: Jesus Christ! Two years, nearly, and I have finally finished Huntress. Clap, please. I think I honestly deserve it. Obviously, I began writing this before the last book came out, and as I've finally finished reading it, I've finally finished the story. Of course, the epilogue adds a little to the main story line, but this story kinda throws it off track a little. In any case, as I'm rambling, please enjoy the conclusion to Huntress!!**

Sian looked over her shoulder, hair blowing into her eyes. She sought out Dakota and Jimena, giving them faint smiles. "Be careful!" Turning back around quickly, she shouldered her way past Rayne. Electricity passed through them, but it quickly passed as she continued running through the manor.

Running to the room Sian last saw her mother, a cold sweat drenched her body. _What the hell am I doing?_, she thought sullenly. _What can I do against her?_

Evelyn lifted her face up, watching Sian with wary eyes. A smile was plastered onto her face and for a second, it looked uncannily real to Sian. A wave of regret washed through her. Why did her mother have to end up being such a royal bitch?

"Hello, Sian."

"Hello, Evelyn."

"You would destroy me for him, wouldn't you? For both of them," Evelyn murmured.

"Both?" But she knew she was right. She would do it for Bran, and for Jackal.

"Yes. God, you are such your father's daughter. Loyalty and sacrifice. I wanted him to come with me, back here, but he wouldn't. You are all the same!" Evelyn screamed. Sian felt a wave of rage slam against her, Evelyn's rage at her father and his family.

"I'm staying, aren't I? I'm staying in Nefandus."

"And making an enemy out of me."

"You made me one, Evelyn. You just had to let me have him." Sian whined, feeling all too much like a little girl.

A crooked smile lit up Evelyn's face. She stood up, shaking her hair out. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

Sian took a deep breath. She tried to reach into herself, tried to feel like she had the night Jackal confronted her. No matter how much she tried, it didn't seem to help. She knew she had this powerful curse inside her, rearing to be let loose, and she couldn't.

Evelyn stepped up to Sian, her fingers wrapping around her daughter's slim throat. Sian hadn't even seen it coming. The fingers tightened; she found herself wheezing at her mother's touch. She grabbed Evelyn's arm, pulling it away from her. The _lecta_ wasn't even trying. She knew Sian couldn't do much and toying with her seemed like such fun.

"Pathetic. The Atrox wants you for what? You can't even fend me off," Evelyn teased.

"You talk so bad about Bran, but you keep him locked up tight, safe from me. Why?" She rubbed at her assaulted neck.

Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "Who is that outside? I can't believe you would allow yourself to be seen with them!"

Sian clenched her jaw, knowing Evelyn was talking about her friends, her _enemies_ after this night.

"This is our fight," Sian hissed.

"I enjoy playing dirty." Evelyn grinned.

Sian watched in horror as she disappeared right in front of her. Her body froze. Chills ran along her skin, muscles tensed. Her legs began to work before her brain kicked back into gear. Dakota. Everything—Bran, Jackal, the Daughters, her life—flashed before her as her legs decided to begin moving before her brain processed that it was time to run.

She slammed into walls with the speed she was going, bouncing off the hard surfaces and pushing herself forward with the momentum. She briefly registered pain flare through her right shoulder. The door loomed in front of her. She heard muted screams. She shoved her way through, stumbling onto the porch. Sweat lingered along her temples and neck. Her eyes were wide open as she stared out at Dakota's body on the ground. She shook.

"DAKOTA!"

She moved down the steps, on air, gliding. She collapsed next to him. Her hands were on his chest, rising up, falling down.

"You think you can come in here, Sian, and fight me without consequence?" She could hear Evelyn scream, but Sian didn't care.

The tears poured from her eyes, flooding her face. Rising up, falling down. "Dakota… Dakota… Dakota…"

His face twitched.

He groaned.

God, she was stupid.

He did know how to heal himself!

Her fingers clutched at him, digging into his shirt. A sigh of relief breathed silently in her mind. No all she had to do…

All she had to die…

Sian looked up at Evelyn, at the wild look in her eyes, the mad laugh twitching her lips. She had to _stop_ her mother.

Around them, everyone grew quiet. The air crackled as Sian stood up.

"You kidnapped my boyfriend, threatened me, and attacked my brother. You're going down, bitch!"

Evelyn stood at the ready. A tight smile clenched her face together. "You can't stop me."

Sian's fingers curled tightly to her pals, making tight fists. Power flooded through her. She knew what it was because the shock was like being high and being thrown into freezing water at once. Every muscle, every blood cell, sparked to life in her. It swirled and danced, a spirit freed. She saw the moment Evelyn felt it. Saw the subtle falter of her plastered facial expression. It broke, just a little, but enough to know.

"Say it again. Tell me that I can't stop you," Sian dared. Evelyn's chin raised and her jaw squared in defiance.

She was stubborn, but so was her daughter.

Sian licked her dry lips, unclenching her hands. "I could hurt you."

"You could try," Evelyn countered. But the _lecta_ acted first. She tossed her head, and Sian was pushed back. She tripped, lost her balance, and crashed to the street below her. In an instant, however, she was back up.

Her hair fell over into her face, making her look like a wild woman. She didn't bother to move it, just stood there, breathing heavy. The puffs of expelled air tossed the strands up, and then they drifted back over her face.

Silence choked the surrounding area. The Daughters huddled together, clutching a healing Dakota to them. Jackal had Rayne face down in the street, his hand clutched on the back of her neck. His eyes watched her, trained on her, never left her.

Finally, she pushed her hair back, uncovering her face. "You want to try that again?" Sian challenged.

Evelyn's eyes narrowed, and she fume. She didn't get it. Didn't understand the flesh of her flesh. Why did she have to be so much like her father?

"Such a pain. All for a slave," Evelyn muttered.

Sian laughed bitterly, placing her hands on her hips. "Speak for yourself!"

"She has you there, Evelyn," Jackal laughed.

"Quiet, mongrel!"

The blood flowing through Sian's veins felt icy, like death. _Mongrel?_ That angered her. Made her seethe and hiss.

The feeling seemed to utterly devour her. A sweeping wave of cold washed over her body. It was the plunging of death taking over. What gad Persephone felt when she had swallowed the pomegranate seeds? Had ice filled her body when she married Hades, when she was forced to live in the Underworld with him?

That was it. She had _done it_. Somehow, she had gotten fully in touch with her Atrox-cultured power.

She curled her fingers towards her pal, and then uncurled them again. It wasn't like any feeling in the world. Like watching somebody you love die and being in love mixed together with sugar and hot sauce poured on top together. They were extremes on both sides of the spectrum, and that's what lived inside her.

A demon. Living, dying. _Existing_.

She watched her hands. There was no difference, nothing physical anyway. Nothing she could see with her eyes.

"You're a demon," Evelyn breathed, feeling the final change with her daughter. "You are the Atrox's pet, not my blood."

"You knew that, knew what the Atrox was planning to do the whole time…" Sian argued, shaking her head. "My whole life, I wanted you to be with me. I just wanted to have my mother so we could be a family."

"Tough luck for you."

"No," she disagreed. "Tough luck for _you_."

It was quick. One, two and down, down the _lecta_ fell. She wasn't dead by any account. But the shock of death touching her, freezing her skin where life had been before, was overwhelming.

Evelyn fell to the ground, body twitching and heaving. One touch, and Sian had reduced Evelyn to a mass of nothingness. Her hand still gripped Evelyn's wrist, even as it grew tired from held up.

No. Sian wouldn't kill Evelyn. Evelyn was the depraved one, the one who needed this violence to feel.

Without letting go, Sian's gaze flickered over to Jackal. "Let Rayne go."

He growled, his face sliding quickly into anger. "Come again, _mon cherie_?"

"You have to let her go. We're proved our point," Sian told him, her voice sharp and commanding.

He continued frowning at her, but his grip began letting up. He pushed Rayne down hard before ridding his hand of her. He stood up, frowning even more. "This could make you seem weak."

Sian smiled, looking at her trembling mother now. "No, I don't think so." She let the woman's wrist go, and some color drifted back to her face. "I'm going to get Bran now. We are leaving. The Daughters are leaving. And so is Dakota."

The _lecta_ nodded slowly, fearful of the Atrox's new watch dog.

Jackal snorted. "I'll get the _servi_ while you say good-bye," he said, picking up the general thought from in front of her barrier. She smiled her thanks, turning her back on Evelyn for good.

"You're serious about staying…" Jimena said, knowing that asking would have been futile effort.

"Yeah." Sian looked around Nefandus. "This is where I belong. I'm not meant for the other world."

"That's not true!" Catty cried out.

"She's right," Vanessa agreed, biting her lip.

Sian shook her head, a wave of sadness rushing over her. Her friends, her enemies. "I belong to the Atrox."

"You don't have to," Jimena exclaimed fiercely. "We can protect you."

"I don't need it, Jimena. I belong here. I was made for the shadows. Nothing can change that."

Serena sighed. "Does this make us enemies?"

"In a way. But don't you date the enemy?"

The telepath colored some at the question.

Jimena reached out for Sian, hugging her as tight as she could. "You will never be my enemy, Sian."

"Nor you mine, Jimena. You still accept me after this?" Sian whispered, fighting back tears.

"Yes."

"I promise you, I'll help you. In any way I can. I may belong to the Atrox, but I'm not loyal."

"Then why stay?"

Sian pulled back a little, staring into Jimena's eyes. She thought quickly, of Bran… Of Jackal.

_Love_. Well, she wanted to say that. Instead, she laughed and said, "I'm Queen of the Underworld."

**XXXXXX**

Bran looked down right pissed as she flung herself into his arms. She didn't care. He could stay mad at her for eternity as long as he was by her side.

Jackal looked away, watching the artificial stars twinkle.

"Why in hell didn't you go with them?" Bran demanded angrily, cupping her face between his hands.

"Don't be fooled, Persephone. _Il était effrayée vous disparaître. _Very scared," Jackal laughed.

Bran glared at the Follower. "Why are you here?"

"Oh, grew some balls, did you?" Jackal challenged.

"Quit!" She stared Jackal down, her palm straight out on Bran's chest. "You two have to get along! How will we work together otherwise?"

"Work together?" Both exclaimed.

She smirked as if they should have known that part of it already. Her hand slid into Bran's, her fingers lacing with his. "Jackal is one of the best. Look at how he tracked you down."

Bran blinked at her, eyebrow raised. "And that's a good thing?

She sighed. "Yes."

"I'm supposed to work with you two?" Jackal asked, completely dumbfounded.

"I know the Atrox would agree."

"What makes you so sure?" Jackal was, of course, skeptical.

"He wanted her," Bran said flatly. "He would give her anything."

She smiled at them both, a bright smile, full of hope. Something not dragged from her yet, but she briefly wondered about it. How long would that last before the Atrox made her an Immortal?

Bran smiled back, but Jackal caught the briefest of flickers in her eyes. No hope.

"You never answered me," Bran finally said, pushing Sian's hair back.

"Answered?" She mumbled.

"Why did you stay?"

"Because, Bran," she said softly, "You are my pomegranate. Like from the story. Only I've completely devoured you, so I can never leave."

She sealed her words with a kiss.

**AN: What Jackal had said was, **"He was afraid you would disappear." **Basically anyway, lol.**

**NEXT: The Epilogue. Yay!**


	16. Epilogue: The Coming of a Dark Change

Sian sat on a tree branch, kicking her legs back and forth slowly. She was enjoying the lazy night, wind breezing through her hair.

"I found you, _mon petite_," Jackal called up to her.

She smiled. "So you have. Where's Bran?"

"Delivering a message to Adamantis for me," Jackal said nonchalantly, accompanying his words with a careless shrug.

"Is he your messenger boy, now?" Her voice was still calm, but Jackal could detect the edge in it.

"No. He offered. I think he was hoping to find the _deas_."

She looked down at him, catching his eyes. "Adamantis isn't going to let him just wander around. He still sees Bran as a _servi_. Plus, he hates us. He thinks we'll stand in the way of his attempt to dismantle our master."

Jackal pondered her words, reaching up to grab both of her legs, stopping their peaceful movements. "Are we not, dearest Persephone?"

"Are you loyal to the Atrox, my friend?" She whispered.

"I'm loyal to you," he growled.

"Good. And I'm loyal to a potentially new regime."

"Not Adamantis, I hope."

"No. Stanton," she said, sliding off the tree branch to the ground.

Jackal nodded. "Have you thought this through?"

Sian pulled back her long hair, tying it up. She didn't want to answer right away. This was a delicate process, the overthrow of one evil for… What, another one, maybe? She hadn't told anybody of the whispered plans between her and her uncle, Stanton. But now was different, now was a time of change.

"It's for the best. But you can't tell Bran," she warned Jackal in a fierce tone, piercing him with her eyes.

"Why would I tell him? I know the risk."

She searched the Follower's face, and saw the truth in it, the truth he couldn't hide from her. Not after all the time she, Jackal, and Bran had spent together since her battle with Evelyn.

"These are dangerous times, Hades," she whispered, not in fear, but in warning. Warning him that he didn't have to be here, with her, as the team they had created.

"I know, Persephone," he whispered in return, understanding her tone, but not caring.

They looked at each other, and she nodded. There was a dark change coming for both Nefandus and the other world. Hopefully soon, the light would cast its glow for good on both worlds.

"Thought I'd find you tow here." Bran slid up along side Sian, his arm around her waist. His lips pressed against her cheek. "Adamantis is going mad!"

"Really? What gave you that idea?" Jackal asked him, suddenly very curious as to what Bran had seen.

"Not now," Sian told them. "We have a hunt to go on, remember?"

The men nodded, and all three drifted into the shadows simultaneously.

**And there's the end of Huntress!! Finally, lol. I hope you enjoyed. Please, leave me some nice reviews, or not so nice if that's how you feel. **


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